This weekend we went to our go to restaurant for an early dinner.  We figured we’d run into our share of older diners at the hour we went but we didn’t figure to run into Hostess Stand Controversy.

As we approached the hostess stand we noticed another couple waiting off to the side.  Waiting for others to join them, perhaps parking the car, perhaps coming separately.  Who knew why but there they stood by themselves, not quite with the waiting hostess.  As we got closer the waiting hostess sprang into action and became a hosting hostess.  “How many?” was her question.  “Two,” was our reply.  “Wait just a minute,” came from the gentleman on the side.  “We’ve been waiting here.”

After a bit of “You go,” “No, please you go,” She of We finally convinced them to please go ahead of us. Within a few minutes the hostess was back and we were at our seats also.  Shortly after everyone was seated the gentleman on the side approached She and said he had nothing to say against us, he was upset that they had been ignored.  (Things like that happen when one stands on the side but She wasn’t going to bring that up.)  He then proceeded to explain to She that in all of the 613,000 hours he’d been on this planet he hadn’t ever been ignored like that.

Ok, let’s back up a bit.  613,000 hours.  Actually 613 thousand and some odd other hours.  On this planet.  We thought he wasn’t native.  What is it with the 613,000 hours?  She had said a friend of hers had recently commented on how often people seem to want to establish their ages by calling out how many months old they are.  Once you get past 24 of them, you should be counting in years.  It seems it’s a neat trick for those who are less than certain of what they have to say.  You state your age in months and your listeners then become mental calculators trying to figure out just how old you really are and lose grasp of whatever it is you might have been saying.  You can then feign that you’ve been agreed with or annoyance at not having been paid attention to.  Either way, you win.  You think.

It didn’t work with She.  Once he got to his 613,000 hours on this planet her response was “Don’t make me do math,” and then he lost all interest in continuing the conversation.  Apparently he was so uncertain that months weren’t going to be enough to create the desired mental distraction, not even weeks or days, that he had to go to hours.  Imagine the hours he spends every day figuring out how old he is.  It changes constantly.  Or at least hourly.  As we write this he is 24 hours older.  Do you suppose he’s added his new hours to his new age?  Or does he calculate it only in the morning upon arising?

In case you’re wondering, and to save you from having to do the math, at 8,760 hours per year that makes him about 70 years old.  And now we all know just how old he really is.  Or perhaps how childish.

Now, that’s what we think.  Really.  How ‘bout you?