I stopped at Publix the other day to pick up a loaf of bread to take to a friend’s house for dinner. I got in line behind an older woman who had a single bottle of white wine. I say older, meaning older than me, maybe in her sixties. I realize that a woman twenty years my junior could very well say the same thing about me (I got in line behind an older woman with a single loaf of challah).
Anyway, I was in line with my single item, and the woman was being chatted up by the older (there’s that word again) male cashier. He had a lovely Irish accent, very melodious and pleasant to hear. After the woman finished paying for her wine, he told her to enjoy her wine, and she got her back and left.
“Of course she is going to enjoy it. It’s wine. How could she not?” I joked with the cashier.
“You have a point,” he said, scanning my bread. “Maybe she is an alcoholic though. Maybe she has to drink it just to get through the day. Maybe she doesn’t like it at all; she just has to have it. That’s $3.17 for the bread.”
“That may be true,” I agreed. “Except she only had one bottle, and it looked pretty good. Not like Mad Dog or anything.” I dug through my wallet and found exact change, which I handed to the cashier. “Which goes back to her enjoying the wine, since she has good taste and is not drinking in excess.”
“Another good point, but what if she is taking to a friend’s house because she is getting divorced? Or because someone died?” He handed me my receipt.
“God forbid,” I said. “She looked too happy for that. I am going with she will enjoy it. I know I would.”
“Here you go,” he said to me, holding up my loaf of bread. “Enjoy your bread.”
“Oh, this? It’s not for me. I don‘t eat bread,” I said.
3 comments:
This entire conversation could've taken place in your head - if you were a schizophrenic.
Glad your glass is half full!
Come on - you didn't eat the bread?
only you, Amy. The rest of us would have said nothing, paid with a debit card, and been on our way.
Post a Comment