Greeters

In case you’re at the Phoenix airport at midnight and get all jacked up about why elderly people in purple jackets are working late night hours and start ranting and comparing them to the poor souls that are over 85 and greeting people at the door of Wal-Mart also at midnight, I’ll give you a head’s up and inform you they are volunteers and actually want to be there. Not that 85 year old midnight working Wal-Mart employees are not also there of their own volition, but somehow I cannot come to grips with that and prefer to think of them as enslaved by the ghost of Sam Walton.

It just really bothers me to see people the age of my grandparents working the graveyard shift. People over the age of 85 need to be covered with an old floral afghan and watching Columbo or Perry Mason reruns in bed at midnight. Or they need to be asleep, dreaming of penny candy and barber shop quartets. I mean, I guess if you can stand on your feet for several hours, not to mention in wee small hours of the morning, at any age, you should be commended because I’m under 30 and can barely make it through a workday or stay up past 10pm.

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