Don’t get excited, I’m still here, I’m just practicing in case they call me back with an offer from McDonald’s. Why McDonald’s? Have you seen that sign in the grass as you drive in? NOW HIRING. $18.00 AN HOUR!

I’ve driven past that sign for over two months, placed my order and had it handed to me by some sweet person, clearly in his or her late 40s or early 50s, who is getting $18 bucks an hour. Now, as I approach my very late middle age, and the paper I write for has come under some changes, I could use $18. Yes, I’ve been able to get by, but I pad my income with a Screen Actors Guild pension.

You can see I still have my Sunday column. I’ve always been happy writing this column and making your Sunday happier. I hope you still enjoy reading it. I know you do, and I love the glamour of seeing my words every Sunday and the picture on top.

And, the cream on top of my monthly stipend is being recognized by strangers in the coffee shops and elevators. You didn’t know we have elevators in central Maine? Well we surely do. Have you not gone to see a movie at the big Paul J. Schupf Art Center, that palace of giant glass on Main Street that sports a tiny, spotless elevator at the end of that long, clean hallway? What? You’ve been walking up that giant stairway? I was in the elevator yesterday with a lovely Maine woman who suddenly blurted out, “OMG are you J.P. Devine?”

“Yes,” I answered quietly. “I am he.”

“I’m so glad,” she laughed, “that you’ve stopped making fun of fat people.”

That sort of greeting makes my heart beat with pride.

But times are tough at newspapers these days, and I’m grateful to maintain my Sunday stipend, I can tell you that. Especially at my age, despite my many awards and popularity with the older crowd, who, by the way, seem to be moving away to calmer climates and senior homes. And of course, as a freelance writer, I’m not one of the famous, highly paid regular columnists like the lovely Amy Calder. I’ve learned a lot from Amy and her Maine way of lighting up your Sunday right next to me. What a gal.

But what with food prices going up, especially along my trek in the frozen dinner package section of the market, a fella has to keep looking for extra cash. As my late brother Jim always said when I tried to corner him for a buck, “There’s no such thing as ‘extra’ cash.”

For example, I found a quarter on the floor at Home Depot, where I was going to buy cheaper bathroom tissue. I held it aloft and shouted, “ANYBODY MISSING A QUARTER?”

I got to keep it.

So, as I was having my weekly dinner at McDonald’s this week (small burger and fries with sweet and sour dressing), I noticed the aforementioned sign and asked the older fellow who handed me my order, “Are they really offering 18 bucks a hour?”

“That’s what the sign says, but …”

“Is there an age limit?”

A lady standing beside me at the counter frowned and asked me, “Aren’t you the J.P. Devine who used to write for the paper?”

“Yes,” I answered quietly. “I am he.”

She grabbed her bag and, with a frown, growled. “You still making fun of fat people?”

I quietly went out and sat in my car eating my small burger and fries with sweet and sour dressing, wondering if Burger King is hiring.

J.P. Devine is a Waterville writer.