Sunday, October 7, 2007

Wednesday checker

Just Me has informed me that I need to tell the whole story, or at least more of it, in order to fully convey why the Wednesday checker was creepy and we won't be BFF, so here goes.

When I got in line, I had a young mother with a tired toddler in front of me. The checker was talking to the young girl, getting her to smile. Then the little girl waved bye-bye to me and I said, "Bye-bye!" to her.
The checker turned to me, as I was unloading my cart, and said, "I just love the little ones!"
I said something along the lines of, "Oh yes, she was a cute little girl. Mine are all grown up now so we're waiting for grandkids."
The checker said, "Oh! You don't look old enough to have grown children."
I said something like, "Just don't look too closely then because I do indeed look old enough!"
The checker insisted that I looked too young. This was the first hint of creepy.

I do indeed look old enough to have a 19 and 17 yr. old because we didn't even have kids until I was almost 30. My 30th high school reunion just happened. I have no doubts that I, a short, fat, graying woman in her late 40's, look old enough to have grown kids. I look old enough to have grandkids. The checker looked old enough to have grandkids too.

As I was unloading the cart she kept chatting away to me. I am also old enough to totally forget large chunks of the decidedly odd conversation, but I clearly though the woman was loony at the time. Another part toward the end of the encounter stuck in my mind. She said my haircut was so cute, just perfect for my face. Then she wanted to know where I got it cut. I couldn't remember the name of the place and at this point my groceries were bagged up and I was ready to go, but she just kept talking about how she needed to go get her hair cut.

I sputtered that it was a place over by Target and Pier 1. The young woman at the check out next to us wasn't busy and was listening in to this rather one sided conversation. She said the name of the place.

I was still trying to be polite, but anxious to get my groceries out to the car at this point. It was time to stop talking and I tried to give her all the clues that I was leaving. She told me all the "Always come to my checkout line! I enjoyed talking to you! It'll be nice to see you again!" line as I started rolling the cart off.

It was creepy. I knew it was creepy when it was happening. I trust my instincts with people because I usually have discernment in that area. It was creepy enough to avoid the store on slow Wednesdays and blend in with the scooter traffic on Thursdays.

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