My First Senior Moment

A ‘senior moment’ is what my mom calls it when she momentarily forgets something, such as my name, who I am, and why I’m in her house. We always have a good laugh about it afterwards, though I have taken to hiding her shotgun ammo whenever I happen to visit.

So, last Sunday, I was a the local supermarket, purchasing my weekly allotment of Captain Crunch, Coke, and other products beginning with ‘C.’ Yes, I have the eating habits of an 9-year-old, though I dare say my collection of plastic cereal toys is unrivaled (for example, I have all the Indiana Jones light-up spoons).

NOTE: I don’t actually use the Indiana Jones light up spoons to eat my cereal. I’m keeping them in mint condition for when they become collector’s items (seriously).

I finished shopping and went to stand in the line to the self-service check out, where I surreptitiously read the covers of fashion magazines. A scanner opened up and I quickly and efficiently scanned in my items and then attempted to pay. I swiped my debit card and punched in the number, only to have ‘Incorrect PIN’ shine back at me.

I entered it again, with the same result. I then realized, I could not, for the life of me, remember my PIN number.

Now, in general, I have an excellent memory. I can recall events with amazing clarity, down to what people were wearing and the conversations that were held. Though, like Cassandra, nobody ever believes me when I point out what actually happened or was said. Frankly, just because they don’t remember the clown, it doesn’t mean it wasn’t there.

So, there I am, standing there at the self-service check-out, staring at the PIN pad. I am painfully aware that there is a large line of people waiting for me to leave and probably wondering why I’m staring at the pad with a stupid expression. Just for the hell of it, I try again, with the same result.

I cannot remember my stupid PIN. I can remember the one I had previously. I can remember the one I had before that. I can even remember my brother’s, as I had to make a deposit for him once over fifteen-years ago. Yet I cannot remember the number I’ve used three to six times a week for the past three years.

Thinking quickly (for once), I then use my credit card, as it doesn’t require a PIN, gather my groceries and receipt and exit the store.

Of course, I can now recall my PIN and have had a good laugh over the incident with the blokes down at the pub.

I’m lying. I haven’t used my debit card since then and I am still not sure what my PIN is. I think I know, but am not sure. I suppose I could call my bank and ask, but I would feel foolish doing so (as opposed to telling all of you about it).

Anyway, I suppose I’ll have to use it again at some point. I’m sure I’ll just punch the numbers again without thinking about it. I’m pretty sure. I hope. I think one of the numbers was even . . .

Cheers,
-Jason