It's cool to be old!

Even though I haven't yet received the thumbs-up on my concept, I'm forging ahead with the dissertation proposal. Some of the proposal material is just recycled concept paper material: the problem and purpose statements and the research questions. A minute ago I was working on the outline for the literature review section. I hit a wall. My brain veered off in another direction, my eyes followed, and on my desk I saw the envelope I received from AARP today.

If you are under 40, you may not know what AARP is. Nor should you. AARP is for old people—like me. At least, that is how it feels. I started receiving letters from AARP about two weeks before I turned 50, and they haven't let up since. They are a relentless marketing machine, cranking out their fake plastic cards with frightening efficiency. I fear, though, that they have no idea how their marketing campaigns are being received.

Hello, AARP! Marketing 101: know your customer. All AARP knows about me is that I'm over 50. They don't care who I am, what I'm like, or how little or how much I enjoy the prospect of growing old. (Does anyone actually enjoy the prospect of growing old? Can you picture a 30-year-old sighing and saying, “Gosh, I can't wait until I turn 50!”? No, I can't either.) If AARP bothered to ask, they would know three things about me. One, I may be 55, but I act like I'm about 12, ergo, I'm not old. Two, I don't care about getting discounts on places like Disney World, because (a) I have no time for vacations, and (b) all my disposable income goes to pay tuition. Three, the idea of receiving a magazine sporting denture-wearing, white-haired, trail-hiking seniors on the cover makes me want to hurl. Dentures are stupid, white hair should be colored or pulled out by the roots, and who has time for hiking when retirement is an impossible dream? Get real, AARP.

“Our records show you haven't yet registered, even though you are fully eligible.... Your admission is guaranteed as long as you're 50 or over.” Oh brother. I know marketing-speak. Let me translate for you. “You are fully eligible” means You are old and “Your admission is guaranteed” means you are getting older by the minute, so better register now before you drop dead and it's too late. Argh, AARP! Rub it in, why don't you. Can't you think of a better way to recruit?

AARP, you gotta make it seem cool to be old. Your product has a perception problem, because you've positioned yourself as a service for old people. Nobody wants to admit they are getting old, certainly not the eternally young baby boomers. If you don't believe me, just check out the clientele shopping at Forever 21. We will be pretending right up to the end. I shed tears when Davy Jones died, for god's sake. I'll always be about 12. OK, so that's 12 in dog years, but you get my drift. I'm not going gracefully into this dark night. My butt may be dragging on the ground when you haul me to the nursinghome, and my voice may be thin and screechy, but I'll still dress like a nut and demand internet and organic vegetables. Because that is who I am, AARP, and growing old is just going to make me more me!

Take a little advice from a perennial student of marketing, AARP. Put some wackjobs, weirdos, and freaks on your magazine covers. Offer discounts to places like the 24 Hour Church of Elvis and Darcelles. Don't scare me by talking about social security—I know it won't be enough for me to live on. Tell me instead about how great it is to finally not care what anyone thinks about me. Tell me that I can finally say what I want, dress how I want, and eat what I want. Tell me it's cool to live alone, to go to college, to make art, to just say no to cosmetic surgery—and cosmetics! I want to be part of “the vanguard of a movement to change the way society looks at and deals with growing old.” You can do it, AARP. If you need some copywriting help, I'm available. I'd even pose for a cover, although I draw the line at showing skin. Just so you know.