Usually, when we go for our annual chat with our financial advisor, it's a pretty ho hum affair. She checks off a bunch of stats just to make sure we're 'on target' for our 'future needs'.
To be honest, who the hell knows? I mean, we could win a lottery or we could suddenly have a honking big medical bill. Either of these would make hash out of all those pie charts financial advisors love.
She's a nice lady, so we humor her.
This year when she asked how old I am, I said 60.
Did that ever put a gleam in her eye!
She told me I qualify for their super duper Plan 60 account, which is way, way better than the god awful joint account we'd been using for the past 40 years. I said I had received a letter around the time of my birthday. But since Paul doesn't turn 60 until December, I thought we had to wait until we were both 60.
Financial advisors live for moments like that.
Quicker than you could say 60, she called up the product comparison info on her computer while explaining that only one of us has to be 60. She casually mentioned it's the same for seniors' discounts for shopping and travelling.
At that, I saw a gleam in my husband's eye.
I have to admit that at 60, I don't quite look the same as I did at 18. A sag here, a wrinkle there. So it goes. Young women do have a certain oomph that fades with time. But, what time taketh away, banks and businesses giveth.
I qualify for senior discounts. Now.
A hottie like Kristen Stewart is the stuff of dreams. Sure. But we older gals have something she doesn't. We are an instant discount for everything near and dear to our husbands' hearts.
And that's something they can take to the bank.
