OY!

The Yiddish word, ”oy” may be uttered by young and old, Jew and non-Jew. According to Merriam Webster, it is an exclamation used to express exasperation or dismay. It can mean, “OMG, that was so hard,” or “This is so sad,” or “What the heck did I get myself into this time?”

You might say I am a woman of a certain age who has felt the sting of ageism in this youth oriented, looks obsessed culture.When one looks around at all the misguided souls who went under the knife to look younger and came out misshapen caricatures of their former selves or sees all the talent that’s left on the wayside in favor of younger, more attractive replacements (like our beloved Laker, Derek Fisher), it’s no wonder that so many of us go in search of that mythical fountain of youth.

For me Groupons and Amazon Local Deals have made the arduous trek toward eternal youth more affordable - but fraught with unforeseen dangers and major “oys.” My first foray into the wondrous world of discounted services was a ten-session membership at a local yoga school.

I thought yoga would be a nice, gentle way to start on the road to rejuvenation. After three sessions, I wound up with a torn rotator cuff and six months of physical therapy. While recovering from my injury, I fed my addiction to discounts with coupons for revitalizing facials, invigorating mani/pedis, and restorative massages. I left the skin spa with a red face and two scars that have not yet healed. At the nail salon, I wound up with a fungal infection. And the masseuse in training at the massage school? She pressed all the wrong pressure points. When I walked out, I had to rush to a licensed massage therapist   This “deal” wound up costing me $150 extra.

Since then I have tried to curb my obsession with cut-rate deals that promise youth and beauty, but when I recently saw the offer for a Pilates Class that was more than just Pilates, for an amazing low price, I couldn’t resist.

I got there early. I handed in my Groupon Voucher and filled out a standard form releasing them from any indemnity should I injure myself or die on the machines. I then made the mistake of looking at the machines. They weren’t the standard benign looking Pilates beds. These looked like ancient torture machines - black metal, extremely long structures with ominous-looking springs and pulleys much like The Rack. And, atop the machines and milling about were some of the most gorgeous, very young, buff women who looked as if they had been weightlifting at Gold’s Gym since birth. What had I gotten myself into?

The instructor set me up on the machine and every now and then corrected my form and removed springs as I struggled. But I was in trouble and I knew it. “Lift yourself on one arm, now move your right leg over your left hip. Push and push and move and move. And turn. Now do it on the other side,” yelled the drill sargeant, er, instructor. Commands came at me faster and faster. The exercises got harder and harder. And why were there so many mirrors?

Did I actually have to look at myself in these outlandish contortions? And see all those gorgeous Miss Americas going through the paces as if they were nursery school games? The mirror had become my enemy. All I could see was my sweaty face and loose flesh jiggling with each move. When had my once firm arms grown Bat Wings?

After fifty-five minutes of grueling exercise, thirty minutes of laughing at myself, and three glasses of water, I walked over to the instructor and admitted I had probably made a mistake to join these classes. She glared at me and said, “Sorry, no refunds.”

All in all, in search of the magical youth cure, I have spent well over $800 on these supposed deals, suffered injuries, infections and deflated self-esteem. I wonder if there is a twelve-step program that could help me. And, please, let me cure my addiction to Groupons and Amazon Local deals before I see an offer for discounted cosmetic surgery. “Oy.”

MA’AM ME, IF YOU DARE

I’ve been “Ma’am”-ed.  No need for flowers or emergency therapy. While many of you might disagree, this is a good thing. The scenario? I simply asked a waiter for a glass of water and he replied, “Yes, ma’am” like I was royalty. Let me tell you, the Queen wouldn’t have been addressed with a bigger smile or more warmth.

This got me thinking about the times I’ve been addressed as “Ma’am.” Bank Tellers,

handymen, sales people and civil servants have all called me “Ma’am.” All quite respectful.  On the other hand, medical staffs insist on calling me by name but since there’s a naked thing going on there, this is probably the appropriate choice.

The only place I’m not shown respect (not “Ma’am”-ed) is on TV. In fact, to them I don’t exist. I like TV. I watch TV – or used to. Now my DVR list is short and most of the shows are on premium cable where thoughtful, intelligent and daring work is still done.

The networks say they have to program to the 18-34 demo because that’s what the advertisers like. Really? If that’s true, why are there so many pharmaceutical, retirement fund and luxury car commercials? And in a time when this prized demo is moving back with their parents, is this a wise use of advertising dollars anyway? The reasoning (and I use the term loosely) is that younger people haven’t developed brand loyalty yet. Of course not! They’re scrounging off their parents or buying whatever is cheapest! Targeting this market is for naught.

Let me dispel the demo myth right now. I am always trying new products. My friends are always trying new products. We actually talk about new products. We like iPads, flat screen TVs and new shampoo. We’re the ones at the department store cosmetic counters plunking down a day’s pay on the latest magical elixir. We control the money and we’re not afraid to spend it!

If the 18-34 year olds are so important, why does the #1 network have a much older demo? No, please, somebody answer that. How many variations of crime scene investigations can a person watch? Nor am I interested in seeing yet another show about slackers living in apartments no twentysomething can afford, screwing up relationships and cracking wise with low-brow sexual innuendo. And, please, no more shows about single parents moving in with their parents.

Can’t you just hear the dialogue in the development meetings – “Bring me the next ‘Friends’ or ‘Everybody Loves Raymond’ or “NCIS’.” Those shows have been done and done well. Instead, network execs, practice saying this – “Bring me a new idea.”

I would even venture to guess why this is happening. The networks are still operating under the delusion that 18-34 year olds are watching TV and driving advertising dollars. So they want young people writing, producing and developing the shows. The problem with this is that these young people are not well versed in television history, literature or life. They have a very limited POV. The wit muscles are not yet developed. They look around their small universe and they just don’t get life’s joke.

So here are some solutions: 1) Hire people in the 40 and 50+ demo to conceive, write and produce.  2) Hire actors in the 40 and 50+ demo to star. 3) Be brave and admit to the world that you are developing shows that are funny, dramatic, will make us think and are aimed, please, at more mature viewers. 4) Stop treating people in this demo like we’re brain dead. We’re not and your low ratings prove that. Hire us! Market to us! And watch your profits rise!

Show us some respect.  I am asking, no begging, the people in charge of TV programming, hiring and producing – PLEASE ‘MA’AM’ ME!