"Uncle"

The other day, a Talabat delivery chap- bless his youthful exuberance - had the audacity to call me Uncle.

Uncle...? Now, this revelation leaves me with only two possible conclusions ..

a. Talabat has begun employing toddlers straight out of kindergarten. Maybe, the next delivery will come with a side of crayons and juice box.

b. I am, in fact, aging at an alarming rate and living in the sweet delusion that I'm still in my prime.

My head, of course , immediately sided with the harsher truth: I've crossed over into the 'Uncle' demographic.

But my heart, ever the optimist, refuses to accept this slander. "Nonsense," it tells me. "You're as young as you feel!" Which, frankly, isn't all that comforting because most days I feel like I need a nap after climbing three floors.

But thank you, dear delivery boy, for delivering not just food but also an existential crisis.

Note to self: If ever elected to be the Power in High places, make actual use of Consumer rights day today and demand that delivery executives address you by the gulf standard of "Ma'ammssirr..".