Monday, April 21, 2008

Stealing From The Elderly

Recently at my dad’s senior apartment complex, there was an incident where someone snuck in the front door, and proceeded to walk into someone’s unlocked apartment and steal some cash. After that, they decided to change the locks on the front and back doors and not give any family members keys, so we have to buzz every time we go visit. Which is fine, except that every time I go there, the little old ladies look at me like I’m going to rape them. They are all scared and very skeptical of anybody under 60 years of age.

Why do the family members need to be punished by not having keys, when the person who snuck in didn't have a key? So now they building has new locks, we all have to get buzzed in, the old ladies are afraid, and I'm sure some senile bat will accidentally let another petty thief in at some point. So what was the point of changing the locks, taking away the keys and making everyone scared? A simple memo to the residents reminding them not to let in strangers would've sufficed.

I’ve been going to this place twice a week for almost 3 years, and many of the ladies once knew me. But one thing about getting old, you forget shit, and evidentially every one of those old biddies has forgotten who I am, or they have decided to take out their frustration of not having any loved ones to visit them on other visitors. I am sick of going to visit my dad and having to justify my presence to a multitude of mature ladies.

Yesterday my dad would not answer his phone and some hag came to the door while I was trying to contact him to buzz me. I made eye contact and said hello and she hit me back with a cold stare and, “You know, I can’t let you in,” as she quickly shut the door behind her. Some old crone leaves her door unlocked and gets robbed, and now they are all scared for their lives. It just seems like an overreaction. After I finally got in, I walked up the stairs to my dad’s place on the second floor, and as I opened the stairway door, a lady, who has seen me there dozens of times, was there to greet me accusingly with, “Did you just come in the back door?” At this point, fed up with prying minds and eyes, I laughed, shook my head, grunted no, and then walked into my father’s apartment.

I realize I am being a little tough on these elderly ladies, but most of the men in the complex talk to me, know my name, open the door for me, etc. I also realize that being scared is a normal thing and Americans are really good at being scared, and old Americans are even better at it, but it really gets to me that I can’t go visit my seventy-year-old father without being questioned like I’m there to rape an old woman or steal the two dollar bill on their nightstand.

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