2 December 2011

Today, I had aspirations of taking my iPad and a notepad and heading out to Panera for lunch and to get some work done. I'm delusional like that, always harboring the beleif that if I go sit someplace with free WiFi that I'll actually get anything done.

Technically, I wrote two sentences while I sat there, so I suppose that counts.

And I did write three sentences on Facebook. So there. Writing was accomplished.

Before I went into Panera, though, I decided to wander around the Nut Tree (think giant strip mall with major stores like Best Buy and Old Navy) and hope for holiday gift inspiration. Because, you know, people will want to buy me chitloads of stuff and I need to know what to tell them to get for me. Since I have no clue, I need to do a little window shopping.

Plus, I've been babying my foot since the walk in Atlanta, and it's time to test it out a little more. I did some deliberate walking at faster than shopping-speed to see how it would feel. It felt fine, so I'll start building on that so that the first time I'm on my feet for any length of time isn't the first day at Disneyland.

While I was wandering around, not finding anything worth telling people to buy me (it really is hard to find crap when you're on the outside of the stores. Who knew?) I decided I was thirsty, but I wasn't ready to go plop myself down in Panera with a salad and some chili, so I wandered into BevMo.

You know. Booze Heaven. They sell single bottles of cold soda, so I grabbed a Diet Whatever and got in line. Ahead of me was a grungy kind of guy, wind-shipped hair, red flannel shirt, and jeans about 3 sizes too big held up with a belt fastened with something from the scientific family Buckles Gigantes. He put his giant bottle of Jack and tiny bottle of vodka (or gin. I dunno. It was clear.) on the counter, and after the cashier rang him up and he made no move toward the card swiper thingy, she asked him a pretty straightforward question: "Ist das alles?"

He blanched. The dude took a tentative step back and looked at me and practically spit, "Fuckin' foreigners. Can't even learn the damned language."

I shrugged. "Sounded like English to me." Ok, so no it didn't. But I understood. I'd have to be half brain dead to not grasp it.

"What fuck?"

Seriously? Complaining about the language and you can't even remember an article? "She asked if that was all. Is that all?"

I don't think he comprehended.

"Like, do you need anything else?" I gestured to the card swiper thingy (don't judge me. I can't think of its name right now.) "You can pay now."

Hey, I wasn't even snotty about it.

He paid and left in a hurry, I think still confused and still not sure what he'd heard.

In a very thick German accent the cashier apologized to me and added, "I have to think still to speak English."

Me: "I can count to ten in German."

Fine. It was stupid, but it made her laugh.


Angel and Kirby said...

ANd she will probably remember the funny lady that defused the situation!

Derby, Ducky said...

Mum can count to 20 in German and knows some words, nice words that is. The dude was probably on his way to dementia or severely brain dead due to too much Alcohol. Do did good Thumper.

Glad the foot feels OK so far.

Thumper said...

Dude was just a bigoted redneck...I don't think he needs alcohol to embrace Teh Stoopid...