One of the things I hate most in this life is stumbling across people from my alleged past who I don’t remember in the slightest. That’s exactly what happened this weekend on my latest trip to the magical wonderland of Target. However, that only happened after I spent 30 minutes wandering around trying to convince employees that I wasn’t stealing things.
I’ve stated in previous blog posts that when I go shopping I like to go super early in the morning to avoid crowds. It’s sort of like acting like a criminal, really. I’m hoping that having less people in the store translates to a smaller chance that someone saw my mug shot on America’s Most Wanted. What would be my crime? I don’t know, but it would probably have something to do with being devastatingly handsome and/or sexing ladies.
Perhaps this criminal frame of mind that got me into an extreme paranoia situation right off the bat. I was just walking around Target perusing external hard drives for my ever increasing (in size and disgustingness) porn collection. I was just reading the backs of boxes when a worker stealthily crept up on me and asked if I needed any help. I said something like, but not exactly “what can you help me with, bitch? You work at Target and you have too thick of a neck for a lady. I think I’ll manage.” Then she just sort of hovered in my aisle for what seemed like 2-3 minutes, because it was.
That’s all my insane imagination needed to start going crazy. I wasn’t planning on stealing anything that day, but all of a sudden I’m in the mind of a criminal. At that point the only thing I can think about is how I’m going to take this heat off and try to convince them that I’m just an average shopper. What was supposed to be a 15 minute trip now takes me about an hour as I wander around trying to act inconspicuous.
Finally, I reached the checkout lane where I’m met by a baldy. I don’t know about you, but I find it strange to be a cashier as a man. I’m supposed to be able to flirt with (ignore) women when I’m in the checkout lanes. I couldn’t imagine being a cashier who had to check out another man. Something about it just seems tinged with homosexuality to me.
Anyways, this bald bitch starts scanning my items when out of nowhere he says “I think I know you”. I immediately want to run out of the store because these conversations never end smoothly, but I stayed because I really need new socks. He then says “Yeah, I think you were in one of my first 4th grade classes that I taught.” I had no idea who this guy was as I mentally blocked out all of elementary school because I was in the “retard room” for one week because my usually awesome mind locked up on me one day and I thought “of” was spelled “ove”, like “oven”, apparently.
The first thing that came to mind when he revealed this to me was “why the switch from teacher to cashier? What, did you get caught diddling kids, or something?” I just couldn’t say that, though and I also couldn’t say “I have no idea who the fuck you are”, because it’s insulting. Unless it was a woman cashier, then it would be a very successful pick-up tactic.
Eventually, the awkwardness subsided after minutes of me trying not to reveal that I have no idea who this guy was. I struck a perfect balance between silence and mumbling incoherently all the while fumbling around with the debit card machine like the only thing I’ve done since 4th grade is pick up addictions to crystal meth, gummy bears and social retardation.
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