Saturday, March 13, 2010

Speak Clearly. Think Clearly. Huh?

I have about two weeks left of being a host to a creature that kicks me, causes my sciatic nerve to torment me, and my food to often reappear at inopportune intervals. In the meantime I have gotten used to people looking at me funny. Tonight was no exception.
I approached the checkout desk at Border's Bookstore and plopped a Clive Cussler book on cd and two P.C. Cast novels onto the stand. "Is this not on sale?" I asked the unattractive woman who had spent too many hours at the front desk. Her hair stood on end - her eyes flashed with contempt of shoppers and her breasts sagged from the effort of trying to run away from her offending personality.
"I don't know," she said oh-so-helpfully.
"Well - okay," I said, trying to hide my disdain of her ways. I worked in retail for YEARS and even at my worst "I hate all customers" time - I was still a pleasure to behold. Or at least I'd like to think so.
"No, it's not on sale."
"Well, can you check my card and see if I have a five dollar coupon on there?"
"No, you don't."
"Well, I'll just go ahead and take it then," I sighed. I was fed up with her "helping" and I just wanted to go home and sit on a heating pad to make my leg stop hurting.
"What?" she stared at me blankly.
"I said I'll go ahead and take it."
"You want the book on cd?" she seemed confused by my lack of ability to convey that I WANTED THE DAMN BOOK.
"Am I saying it funny? Are things not coming out right?" I asked my sister, who, unfortunately seemed to confirming sasquatch's confusion.
"Youwantthebook?" she asked me in her non-pausing fashion and patted me like a kid who couldn't make up her mind between Sour Patch Kids or Sour Worms in the candy store.
"Seriously? Did I not just say that I did?" I was incredulous.
"No, youweren'tmakingsense," Summer said and pushed my other books forward.
"Well, huh," I said, pulling out my credit card and handing it to Hateful Eyes.
"This pregnancy thing sucks," I continued while walking out of the store.
So on top of my other maladies - I can now add the inability to talk real good to peoples either.


EmcogNEATO! said...

You think the talking gets better when he's on the outside? ;) You'll be all ma-ma-ma-ma, goo-goo, cutie-patootie.

Try that out on the cashier, however, and I bet they call security.

Dawn said...

You were, I am sure, speaking fine. It is the hours of working at Borders that sucked the little brains she had away from her. I know... I shop there too. A lot.

Anonymous said...

I had to check out your new word verification feature. You know what I got? Probco. Sounds like a company owned by aliens.