PSST. Excuse me, but are you of a certain vintage? You know, the category of people who will be 65 or over in 2030, or already in the group that MM Lee was referring to when he said that retirement means death?
It's OK, I'm not going to tell anybody. In fact, I'd like to invite you to join a secret society. I might or might not be the chairman, because admitting that I am in this society implies that I meet its age requirements, so I am not about to declare this information publicly.
Do note that this society is not open to people who wear their real ages on their faces and declare that they don't care about growing old because it signifies a natural life process that all humans have to go through. We hate these people with their self-assured posturings.
No, we are a society which believes that age is a number that can be avoided, so long as you have a good aesthetic surgeon who keeps up to date with the latest Botox procedures.
As with all exclusive societies, we have very stringent admission criteria. First of all, you have to undergo a personality test which assesses your ability to accept your real age, rather than the age that you wish you still were.
In one of our tests, we send our officials out in disguise to monitor your reactions to various stimuli under certain conditions, for example at the recent Silver Industry Conference and Exhibition (SICEX), which caters to the lifestyle needs of well-heeled senior citizens.
Points are accorded depending on the excuse you gave for being there. "I'm looking for suitable toilet facilities for my grandmother" (bonus points for having the audacity to think people will believe you still have one); "I aggravated my Achilles Heel while playing in a semi-professional football tournament last year, so I'm looking at getting a nice electric wheelchair to hasten my recovery"; "My dog chewed up my mother's walking stick so I'm here to get a new one, and I thought I'd get one of those reacher sticks to help me, I mean her, pick up things without having to bend over".
On the other hand, points will be deducted for fondling a keyboard with large letters a little too longingly, or aggressively wrenching an ergonomic pen out of the arthritic hands of an old man, just so you can try it yourself. And if you, horrors, take off your glasses to read the fine print on the packaging, I'm afraid we simply cannot accept you in our esteemed club. Ours is a society of Lasik-ed individuals - although we are somewhat split on whether wraparound sunglasses is taking things a little too far.
Still, I'll have you know that we are not some super vain group of people for whom, "My goodness, you don't look a day over 40" is a genuine compliment. We are merely taking an unpleasant inevitability - growing old and not having enough young people to support us - and denying it totally.
So, if we succeed, when 2030 comes around, we'll be getting compliments like "Wow, uncle, you don't look a day over 50" and wearing wraparound glasses with hearing aids attached to the arms. We'll be a new generation of oldies who still behave like goodies.
