I know you’re probably expecting me to refer to the low point of my day as being the 40 minutes I traipsed around the university campus at which I work, in high heels, wondering where in the heck the stupid Widtsoe building was, only to discover upon giving up and returning to my office that it was, in fact, right behind the Martin building. And that’s only significant because the Martin building is where I stopped my search…at that end of campus. *lays head on desk and cries* Or you might expect me to refer to the low point as the ham sandwich I ate that tasted icky and made me sad. Well, you’re wrong. So maybe that’s the low point of your day. You’re welcome.
A Disclaimer: I don’t like to play the race card unless I know it’s going to get me a job/get me into college/get me a loan/lead people to believe I am brilliant at math and the violin. It’s just tacky.
I had to go to the drug store today to buy
a Shake Weight makeup. And Husband needed chapstick, which is also important to me because I kiss his lips and like it much more when they are soft and supple. As it turns out, along with selling everything from makeup to Snuggies, Walgreens has a really stupid store layout. And trying to avoid another 40 minute roam to find something, I dropped my pride off at the door and asked two employees where I might find chapstick.
The Low Point
The male employee looked right at me and said, quite loudly, “OH MY GOSH! I seriously swear to you it sounded like you said CHOPSTICKS! And I was going to say, ummmmmmmmm we don’t sell any CHOPSTICKS!” I can sort of see why he’d be confused because chapstick and chopsticks have a lot in common; 8 letters, in fact. But I am nothing if not a clear speaker who enunciates very well (this isn’t just arrogance speaking; a customer service representative with Discover credit cards once told me over the phone that I should be in sales, I spoke so well, and recently a woman told me over the phone that she was surprised at how quickly I can speak, but still be understood. I’m that good.), and I didn’t pluralize chapstick (because who asks for chapsticks? Probably people who talk about mouses.), so there was no reason for the confusion.
And then it hit me: Asian in the drug store. Walking around all Asian-like, asking for chopsticks.
ChApstick (singular) can be found in Aisle 9, under a very small sign marked “lip care.” He even went out of his way to show me the Walgreens brand, Chap-Aid, in case that was something I wanted to try out. It wasn’t. I’m a Blistex girl and so is Husband (well, he’s a Blistex boy) and I don’t think I’d ever voluntarily use something called Chap-Aid in the first place. I tried to avoid going through his cash register line, but it would have been unreasonable to wait for the woman buying multiple packs of mini yo-yos just to make a silent statement against idiocy. So there I was, placing my makeup and four tubes of chapstick on the very counter he patted with his hand — “Mm-hmm just set it right here.” Thanks, Walgreens employee. I wasn’t quite sure what to do with them. I got confused what with all my Asian-ness.
In the end, I really learned a valuable lesson; namely, that chopsticks are the one item that Walgreens apparently does not sell. So don’t go there, if that’s what you need. You’re welcome again.