An interesting viewpoint is held at a young age: “it’s all about me.” You have this viewpoint until you realize, in fact, it’s not all about you. Other people exist in the world, too.

But digression takes place when you become old, something to look forward to, and again you hold the viewpoint that your needs are the most important.

In waiting on a group of 26 senior citizens, I was reminded how high-maintenance people in this age group are — and how much like my kid sister they are.

Every single one of them ordered coffee. I could not keep their cups full, they drank it so quickly. We serve coffee at 112 degrees but apparently you can’t feel that after a certain age. They are able to suck and slam the scalding liquid through their dry, quivering holes faster than the coffee can brew.

Despite approaching each table with pot in hand, they feel the need to jut their hands up in the air toward me, flailing about.

“Coffee!” one shouts. As I’m about to pour more coffee, she turns her head like an owl and from behind her glasses she hoots, “decaf?”

Yes, it’s decaf. See the doily beneath your cup indicative that you are not to be served caffeine? I get it.

“Of course,” I say with a smile and fill her cup. I have to run away from the group in order to refill my coffee pot, avoiding eye contact and ignoring the multitude of hands shooting upward.

Bread, water, coffee, napkins and new silverware (they kept dropping it on the floor) kept me running non-stop until they left. Their life stories also detained me from getting to others’ needs.

Let’s compare children to seniors. Both are messy eaters. There’s something amusing about watching a baby smear its food all over its mouth and coo at you. There’s something disgusting about watching a senior do the same.

For kids, it’s sugar, and lots of it — in everything. For seniors, it’s Sweet-n-Low or salt, in everything and in great excess. Eight packets of Sweet-n-Low and you still cannot taste it? Both seniors and kids are very particular about the way something tastes. My favorite is how kids have their mommies to take care of them and how seniors go to restaurants expecting the same treatment from the wait staff (although you’d be hard pressed to find a server, no matter what the incentive, to wipe a senior).

Babies have high chairs and booster seats; seniors have canes, walkers and scooters. The scooters are actually ingenious. If I could move about by only using my hand and the slightest of effort, I’d be in business. I’d love to jettison to a table in a scooter to take an order.

One thing that seniors have to themselves, though, is their tipping practices. They are atrocious. A nickel for a $10 drink is insulting. If you’ve ever gone out with your grandparents and watched them tip, I hope you’re not only embarrassed but embarrassed enough to slide some extra cash under your plate or into the server’s hand.

I guess jaded senility is something we all have to look forward to.

The one thing we’ve learned is the principle difference between a baby and a senior — it depends.

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