The young checker seemed to be struggling a bit that particular Friday morning.

“How you doin’?” I asked.

“Oh, I’m … fine,” he replied.

“Just ducky, eh?”

He looked up at me.  “Ducky?  Is that a word?”

“Uh … it was in my generation,” I said.

“Hmmm.”  He looked back at his scanner.  “Expanding my vocabulary,” he said.

“Yep.  You’re learning how to speak ‘Old Fart.’”

He tried to contain the chuckle, unsuccessfully.  “That might come in handy some day,” he said, grinning.

Yeah, I’m an Old Fart, but he was frowning when I got there and smiling when I left.