Reflection #41 — Creeping Entitlement

I’ve been caught
with entitlement in my pocket,
thinking life owes interest
on effort well spent.
I worked hard, didn’t I?
Surely there’s a return.

It sneaks in quietly—
this sense of deserving.
In long lines.
In the chair not offered.
In the invitation
that forgot my name.
Gratitude thins,
irritation thickens,
and suddenly kindness feels overdue.

I notice it most
at the checkout counter,
when I hesitate—then accept—
the senior discount.
I smile, slightly embarrassed.
I was far poorer when young,
but here I am now,
grateful for a few shaved dollars
and pretending I don’t care.

Age may earn respect,
yes,
but it’s not a backstage pass.
There’s a line between dignity
and expecting the red carpet.
We elders, like the young,
must watch where we step.

Entitlement loosens its grip
when I carry my own bags,
open my own doors,
answer my own messages,
and keep my word
unless life truly intervenes.
Small things, perhaps—
but they keep me honest.

So if entitlement taps me on the shoulder,
I try to laugh,
and gently tell it to move along.
Of course I’m special—
just not that special.

And this, my final thought:
yesterday’s accomplishments
don’t buy today.
They earn only one thing—
another chance
to show up,
unentitled,
and alive
to this moment.