The Middle Ages

Apparently, the life expectancy of a female in Malaysia is something like 75. (It's amazing what you can find on the internet; or, as Abang says, "The internet has everything!")

So technically that would make me "middle aged" which in itself is a scary thought, eh.

Until yesterday, I never felt old. Sure, I'm closer to 40 than 30 but hey, age is just a number, right?

Daddy helped me change all that yesterday. We were having lunch at TGIFriday's at Plaza Damas and I noticed that the wait staff were mostly Filipinos. I don't have anything against foreginers making an honest living here - or anywhere else - but I did wonder why local youngsters don't want to do it.

I made the mistake of wondering out loud.

"Why don't local kids want to do this?" I asked Daddy. "I mean, it's not dirty or demeaning at all and certainly not dangerous. Right after I did my SPM, I worked at Pizza Hut for a few months and I thought it was great fun! Get experience, plus a bit of money, learnt about customer service, meet lots of people ... what's wrong with kids these days anyway..."

He just shrugged while I continued to rant, "Ok-lah, admittedly it is VERY little money, I'm sure the wages haven't gone up very much since I was doing it. But that was just ... uh ... oh. That was ... AAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa ... 20 years ago!"

That's when he dropped the bombshell (thanks, dear).

"So biologically," says my dear husband, "that waiter serving us could be your son! AHhahahaha..."

Pause.

Very long pause.

"That's a scary thought," I said.

And in one fell swoop, Daddy stopped my ranting and raving.