NEVER NO WAY NO HOW

My job at the Agency is a mixed bag. Whenever I ring a doorbell, I am torn between curiosity and trepidation. I never know who will open the door. Most clients are delighted to see me, but there are exceptions.

Mrs. Tibbut was a magnificent specimen of geriatric femininity, clad in a long velvet skirt the colour of the night sky, complemented by an immaculate white blouse with puffed sleeves and a cameo brooch at her throat. An anachronistic apparition from the Victorian era, gracious and refined.  I was completely taken aback when she gave me the finger and slammed the door in my face.

I didn’t hear the lock click into place, so I re-opened the door gingerly and followed her retreating figure into the living room. Her back was ramrod-straight, and her hips swished ever so slightly as she walked. She parked herself in a dusty rose brocade wingback chair, picked up an open book on the side table, and pretended not to notice me.

“I’m George, your driver, Mrs. Tibbut. It’s time to go.”

She refused to look up.

"Please don't shoot the messenger," I said. "I'm just a driver trying to do my job. I had nothing to do with the arrangements."

She looked up from her book with a sigh. "You don't even know my kids, do you?" she asked. "If you did, you'd understand."

"No, Ma'am. I've never had the pleasure of meeting them."

"They think they can control every aspect of my life. Nag, nag, nag. I'm perfectly happy the way I am, and they won't leave me alone."

I tried to look as sympathetic as possible. If I was going to succeed in my mission, I was going to have to convince her that I was on her side.

"The grandkids are even worse," she continued. "Be cool, grandma! Get a smart phone so we can text and send pictures! Well, I don't want a phone that's smarter than I am."

She stopped and took a deep breath. I opened my mouth to commiserate, but she wasn't finished. "And the great-grands! No self-restraint whatsoever! All they really want from me is candy, and they make me feel like a monster when I say no. But you should see what an overdose of sugar does to them!"

I mentally counted to fifty while she brooded. Then I cleared my throat.

"Your family obviously loves you very much," I said. “They’ve gone to a lot of trouble to provide you with the very best.”

"If they loved me, they would listen to what I say! I said NO NO NO! If I told them once, I told them a thousand times. But they think they know more about me than I do!"

"Ma'am," I reminded her gently, "It's time to go. I have a schedule to maintain. The drive will take twenty-five minutes, and we can chat along the way if you wish. There's a bottle of your favourite sherry in the back seat waiting for you."

She glared at me. I thought she would give me the finger again. She sighed instead and looked at me with pleading eyes. "Can't you just tell them you had the wrong address and couldn't find me?"

"If I do that, ma'am, I won't get paid for this trip. And if my boss is in a bad mood, I might get fired. Please -- if you won't do it for your loved ones, do it for me."

"How do I look?" she said. "Should I put on some more lipstick?"

"You look awesome. Fabulous. Absolutely perfect."

She stood up. "And you are a liar. Should I bring my purse?"

"Not unless you have medication you need to take."

"Nothing until nine o'clock. We'll be back by then, won't we?"

I glanced at my schedule. "I'll be picking you up at eight-thirty. Lots of time."

"Okay," she said. "Let's go."

"You won't regret it," I assured her. "You're going to make wonderful memories tonight. It's not every day that someone turns ninety. Your family and friends want to celebrate your milestone and let you know how much they appreciate you."

"I guess it might be fun, especially after some sherry." she conceded. "I've never ridden in a limo before."