Last week I was at the grocery store in the check out lane with a couple of customers ahead of me. I got the impression that the cashier was one of those people that was overly friendly. You know, one of those people that tries to create a deep and meaningful bond for the five minutes of interaction the two of you might have. (I actually appreciate this behavior more than being totally ignored, although it can be a little uncomfortable.)
When it was time for my groceries to cross the scanner I recieved a boisterous "How are you today?"
"What have you been up to?"
-Oh, you know. Working.
"Oh! Where do you work."
-In Oak Ridge.
"Really?! What is the most fascinating thing you did today?"
-Well, I choked on my own spit.
The gentleman bagging my groceries is in hysterics.
- Yeah. I figure if that is the worst part of my day, it can't be too bad.
The man asks if he can help me out to my car. I usually go for it when they ask thinking they probably want a break from the inside or the overly chatty cashier, but for some reason I turn him down. Maybe to save face - even though I wasn't really embarrassed. Perplexed. I was perplexed. Why would that be my answer to a question of fascination? Especially after the judgements I had passed on my cashier about being socially awkward.
Hello, Pot. I'm Kettle.