Smells Like...

Two interesting things happened at the grocery store the other day.

First, I was ID'd for the 6-pack of Mike's Hard Lemonade I purchased. Whatever. The cashier was just doing her job, I'm happy to oblige by handing over my driver's license. But seriously folks, I'm 36 years old. And this was not a flirtatious situation where the cashier/server was performing a little act in hopes of a big tip or whatever.

Or was it?

As I was picking up my bags o' groceries at the end of the lane, the cashier called my name. Weird because, I mean, who remembers the name of the person whose check card they just processed. (Certainly not me back in my retail days) So I'm on my way out and she's calling my name and is suddenly all chatty about what perfume I'm wearing because ohmygod it totally reminds her of a perfume worn by someone she used to know and boy is it nice, blah blah blah perfumecakes and she's totally ignoring the next customer so she can detain me with her perfume talk.

I kind of wanted to get going, so I made up an answer for her. "It's the product in my hair - Aveda Brilliant Pomade" is what I told her. The truth is, I had no idea. I was not wearing perfume or scented lotion. I use unscented laundry detergent and I hadn't showered since the night before. My hair was on day two of a two day experiment attempting to enhance the curl by means of less frequent washing and no product. And I was wearing a shirt I had plucked from the laundry pile as I ran out the door to do errands.

Are you turned on yet?

Cashier gal was not satisfied with my response though. I left her with a "All right then, thanks, have a good day" and a shrug of geez-I-don't-know-what-to-tell-you. I think that ticked her off, she seemed a little hostile.

And then I felt bad for adding to her angst because, really, the woman is a cashier at a big stinky warehouse grocery store. She's got enough problems already.