99 Years

I work for a 99-year-old man. His name is Mr. S.

He's sharp enough to come into the office every day.

I adore him.

This is a telephone conversation I recently overheard:

Mr S: I had a tooth filled there yesterday and the doctor recommended that I have two molars pulled. As you know, I'm 99 years old and I can't be around too many more years. They aren't giving me any problem and seem perfectly fine to me, so I think I'll just wait until I have some sort of symptom before I do anything.

Well played, Mr. S., well played, indeed.