Jean Syed: A Revolving Door

When I got to the check-out counter
Momentarily I couldn't decide
Whether to accept debit or credit.
I just stood there stupefied.

For my mind was like a revolving door
While I went hot and cold,
The young assistant looked down on me
Perhaps because I’m old.

Next, I went to the hairdresser,
My white locks wanted a clip
Yet he didn't charge senior citizens' price
I gave him a great big tip.