Open Thread: I Hate Having To Be “That Lady”
It’s perplexing how, for some, older individuals seem to fade into the background. As the New Year approaches, I’ve resolved to become more assertive—embracing the role of “that lady.” If I don’t, I face a series of inconveniences:
- Delivery personnel often neglect to bring my packages to my floor, if they deliver them at all.
- My neighbor continues to leave her trash in the hallway, right by my front door, despite my polite requests.
- When dining out, I often find myself seated at the least desirable table, near the wait staff and restrooms.
- In stores, I’m frequently the last to be attended to.
- On public transport, getting a seat is a toss-up—though I’ve noticed that young women are often the ones who offer theirs.
It seems that the social norms designed to keep our society functioning smoothly don’t always extend to older adults, leaving me to fill that gap. And frankly, I find it frustrating.
Delivery? What Delivery?
It’s disheartening to have to chase after delivery personnel for my big breakfast food package. The administrators provide a delivery date, and I must remain home to accept it, unable to venture out or even step away from the door to hear the buzzer (due to my hearing impairment).
Living on the top floor of a walk-up only adds to the challenge. If I had the means, I’d choose an elevator building to avoid this hassle altogether!
Unfortunately, delivery personnel often skip my address, claiming they’ll reschedule for another day or that I was “on vacation” when they arrived.
Trash Trouble
As for my neighbor, I eventually stopped being polite and started documenting the trash situation. I took pictures and sent them to my superintendent, but that didn’t resolve the issue. When it happened again, I escalated the matter by sending a detailed complaint to my property manager, complete with dates and photos. I pointed out that leaving garbage in the hallway undermines the purpose of hiring an exterminator. While I disliked being a snitch, it ultimately led to a resolution.
Who’s “That Lady?”
Though the delivery issue remains unresolved, I’ve decided to take a step back for now. I realized I was beginning to not care about being “that lady,” and losing my patience wasn’t going to foster cooperation.
Your Turn
These are just a few examples, but I’m sure many of you have similar stories. When have you had to be “that lady” or “that guy”? How did you handle it? Share your experiences in the comments!
Virge Randall is Senior Planet’s Managing Editor. She is also a freelance culture reporter who seeks out hidden gems and unsung (or undersung) treasures for Straus Newspapers. Virge frequently writes about Old School New York City and performs at open mic readings throughout the city. Send Open Thread suggestions to editor@seniorplanet.org.
It’s perplexing how, for some, older individuals seem to fade into the background. As the New Year approaches, I’ve resolved to become more assertive—embracing the role of “that lady.” If I don’t, I face a series of inconveniences:
- Delivery personnel often neglect to bring my packages to my floor, if they deliver them at all.
- My neighbor continues to leave her trash in the hallway, right by my front door, despite my polite requests.
- When dining out, I often find myself seated at the least desirable table, near the wait staff and restrooms.
- In stores, I’m frequently the last to be attended to.
- On public transport, getting a seat is a toss-up—though I’ve noticed that young women are often the ones who offer theirs.
It seems that the social norms designed to keep our society functioning smoothly don’t always extend to older adults, leaving me to fill that gap. And frankly, I find it frustrating.
Delivery? What Delivery?
It’s disheartening to have to chase after delivery personnel for my big breakfast food package. The administrators provide a delivery date, and I must remain home to accept it, unable to venture out or even step away from the door to hear the buzzer (due to my hearing impairment).
Living on the top floor of a walk-up only adds to the challenge. If I had the means, I’d choose an elevator building to avoid this hassle altogether!
Unfortunately, delivery personnel often skip my address, claiming they’ll reschedule for another day or that I was “on vacation” when they arrived.
Trash Trouble
As for my neighbor, I eventually stopped being polite and started documenting the trash situation. I took pictures and sent them to my superintendent, but that didn’t resolve the issue. When it happened again, I escalated the matter by sending a detailed complaint to my property manager, complete with dates and photos. I pointed out that leaving garbage in the hallway undermines the purpose of hiring an exterminator. While I disliked being a snitch, it ultimately led to a resolution.
Who’s “That Lady?”
Though the delivery issue remains unresolved, I’ve decided to take a step back for now. I realized I was beginning to not care about being “that lady,” and losing my patience wasn’t going to foster cooperation.
Your Turn
These are just a few examples, but I’m sure many of you have similar stories. When have you had to be “that lady” or “that guy”? How did you handle it? Share your experiences in the comments!
Virge Randall is Senior Planet’s Managing Editor. She is also a freelance culture reporter who seeks out hidden gems and unsung (or undersung) treasures for Straus Newspapers. Virge frequently writes about Old School New York City and performs at open mic readings throughout the city. Send Open Thread suggestions to editor@seniorplanet.org.
