Stay In Touch

It’s not the lines on my face, the grey in my hair or the wisdom ill-timed advice spouting from my mouth that reveal my age.

It’s the Rolodex on my desk.

I didn't know that I was an artifact, possibly the only human left on the planet who doesn't store her business contacts on her phone or on her computer, until a friend texted me that it was so.  I keep my contacts in a contraption that looks like this (for the benefit of my younger readers):

I've carried my Rolodex from desk to desk, from job to job.  Flipping through it guarantees me access to the movers and shakers who faciliate all those very profitable business deals for which I have become known -like when I convinced the cashier at the A&P to give me the dented can of sauerkraut for half off.

So why do I live on the flip side?  Because my phone isn't cool enough to allow me to easily tap all both of my friends' names and numbers into its database.  I do it because I never know when my computer will freeze or when my cell phone is going to die.  Like in the event of a nuclear conflagration or an alien attack.

But I will have the last laugh.  When all of you are trying frantically to remember the number for 911 as aliens mill about, turning everyone into pod people, or to find a taxi service to arrange for A WAY OUT, I'll be sitting pretty, flipping through my Rolodex, and ordering myself a pizza.