Someone else's problem

I read on the internet, so it must be true, that a Canadian company called Hyperstealth is reporting it has developed Quantum Stealth, a material that renders the target “completely invisible by bending light waves around the target.” If the mock-up photos are to be believed, Quantum Stealth basically works like Harry Potter’s invisibility cloak.

I could have saved them the research dollars . You just have to reach middle age and invisibility happens.

Young beautiful things charge in to me in the street oblivious that I am walking the same trajectory. Ok, I’m short, but not that short. Where I once could go to the bar and get a beer or a glass of wine quite easily I now have to stand on the nearest chair rung and wave frantically so that I attract attention. You can see the chiselled, gym toned barman musing; Should I call the cops, or just see if she is lost?

Last weekend I popped in to the local shops to but some steak on my way to a BBQ. There were two lads serving. One of the fellows - let’s call him Snags - attended to the only other customer while I stood by.  The other, hereafter called Stewie, went ‘out the back’. By the time Stewie came back Snags was well into his service. But a group of people headed by a rather attractive young woman had entered and was positioned way down at the end of the counter. Stewie had to walk right by me to serve her – and that’s what he did. I looked non-plussed,  said I think I was next, and that was it – everything went on as if I had said nothing. I think I had fallen into Harry Potter’s invisibility cape.   

So I left, and bought my steak next door at the national chain where there are women of all ages employed, and who actually greet me as I go in and out regardless of whether I am in my daggy exercise gear or dressed up in my best bling.

Recently I bought a new top – served by a lovely bubbly young girl who no doubt was still in high school. When I settled on a  fluorescent  green blouse her remarks were: My you’re brave. I’m still not sure whether I should have been insulted.

I’m think I am invisible on the road. Lots of cars – particularly those driven by female P platers in a hurry to get to God knows where - drive two inches from my bumper bar for kilometres on end  oblivious to my right to be there. Others zip past and cut in front while I am doing the speed limit. The only clue I get that they have even noted my presence is the occasional finger gesture.

Despite government initiatives to extend the age of the workforce or re-engage or entice older workers back to the desk, I’m convinced that the smart young things who have shot up the ladder with no experience and even less wisdom just want us to fade off into their peripheral vision, or get assigned even more remotely to old folks homes with high walls. I can’t provide any hard evidence for this view, but I get the feeling. 

I’m now retreating to a world where instinct and nous, trumps data and facts.

I muse about whether I noticed older people when I was one of the chosen generation. Did I expect them to step out of my way? Did I run my trolley or stroller into them as they sauntered along? 

Once when I was a child I attended a clearance sale at a house not far from where I lived. I could not have been more than ten years old. An old fellow was trying to bid on a number of walking sticks. The auctioneer couldn’t, or wouldn’t, hear him. I felt guilty forever that I had not spoken up on his behalf. On reflection I wonder now if he had entered the invisibility realm.

Douglas Adam’s described SEP’s in his Hitchiker’s series…Things that you just see out the corner of your eye if you look away, and look quickly back again – like a sofa appearing on the centre wicket at Lords, you catch a glimpse of it, but you don’t believe it.  Someone Else’s Problem (SEP). You don’t have to deal with it, you just pretend it isn’t there.

I’ve determined to become an SEP. Then I can do whatever I like and no one will notice – the world will just whoosh past around me while I pointy dance on the front porch dressed only in my Tshirt.

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Art Work of the week

And now for paintings of the Tea cosies.......

Betty's Best British Brew. Acrylic on paper  140x90mm