[Continued from yesterday...]
After they bag my groceries at my local supermarket, they ask if I need help carrying them out. This is a nice gesture. I appreciate it. But sometimes it gets ridiculous. Like the time I bought a six-pack of beer. Nothing else. Just one six-pack of Alaskan Amber ale.
"Would you like any help out with that?" the cashier asked.
"It's a six-pack of beer!" I was about to sputter. "One measely six-pack! I am an able-bodied 30-something dude who -- seriously, I swear -- can lug this entire six-pack of beer across the street and into my home... all... by... myself!
Then I noticed the cashier was very cute... with soft, brown eyes and a smile that sent tingles through me.
"Well, I guess I could use a little help. You see that building across the street? That's where I live. If you could deliver it to me in about 20 minutes, I'll be in my bathtub."
I was about to say that when I came to my senses. She was way too young for me. People get arrested for saying things like that. So I smiled and told her I could manage on my own, thanks.
"Okay, well thank you Mr. Fox," she said.
They always call me Mr. Fox when I go through the check-out line. Except for one time a few weeks ago. On that occasion the girl who was bagging my groceries did not say, "Thank you Mr. Fox." Instead she asked me, "How do you pronounce your last name?"
How do I pronounce my last name?! How many ways are there to pronounce F-O-X?!
I answered her question, enunciating the word more clearly than I ever have before.
Apparently she had neglected to sneak a peek at my credit card to see my name, as she had been trained to do. Her "How do you pronounce that?" trick would have worked if my last name had been something like Foxithrynovietsovicz, but I'm one of those annoying guys with a short last name.
"Oh," the girl said, blushing. "Well thank you Mr. ... Fox. Have a nice day."
"You have a nice day too," I said. I tried hard to sound sincere.
Comments