*click*

Many thousands of years ago, when Ms. Magazine was first launched, I was an avid subscriber. They had a column on the very last page called *click* in which women told stories about those small, everyday occurances that vividly demonstrated that they were being treated differently than men, on the job or in the home. Some *click* examples were when they realized the man next to them doing the same job was paid more, or when they were denied credit unless they had the signature of their husbands.

These life-changing moments, known as *clicks* in the magazine. I experienced a *click* of a kind yesterday. It wasn't about gender inequality, it was about age inequality - and seemingly, I was on the power end of it.

Yesterday, for probably the fourth summer in a row, I had to go to the doctor for treatment for poison ivy (yes, my hedge-trimming finally got me). My regular doctor (a woman) was not available, so my appointment was with a... VERY.... YOUNG.... MALE.... DOCTOR. (I'm not sure the ink on his diploma was still dry.) The *click* moment came when he suggested I should use a cortisteroid cream to spread on the rash. In my vast experiences with poison ivy, I have been treated very successfully by steroid pills and had no intention of leaving the office without a prescription. When I mentioned my preference, Dr. McYoungy mumbled a few things like "I always advises patients to use the cream." But, there was something in his body language that told me he was intimidated! He backed up a step, tried again to justify the cream remedy, but eventually turned tail and skeeedadled out of the 2x2 exam room to fetch his prescription pad (which, of course, he had forgotten to bring in). I swear to God, I wasn't rude or mean, I merely suggested that I had good luck with the steroid pills. But Doogie just crumpled. It was an odd moment to find out I am a middle aged woman with such POWAH! *Click!*

This experience was a reverse *click,* I guess, but it makes me think that I just might be Wonder Woman after all.