Would You Like Your Milk in a Bag?

I blame it on my dad. We were sitting at a pizza shop in San Diego, California, waiting for our order, when he signaled to a waitress.

“May I have a spoon for my coffee?” he asked when the cute young lady walked over to our table. “I’d stir it with my finger but then it would be too sweet.”

She laughed and twirled off to get him a spoon while I melted underneath the table in embarrassment.

Twenty plus years later and I’ve become that guy. I don’t embarrass my son in front of pretty waitresses (yet) but I have been known to cause the Boss to apologize to anyone within earshot for bringing me in public. That happened when we checked out at a Hobby Lobby a couple of months ago and I asked the cashier if the name on her name tag, “Edith,” was her real name or just the name that she put on her name tag at work.

“I’m sorry,” the Boss told her. “He doesn’t get out much.”

In my defense, we did do that at work when I sold clothes for County Seat in the early 80’s. The expression on Edith’s face was priceless. I enjoyed watching her fumble for words to express her complete disbelief that I asked such a question.

So, last night I was in Wal*mart, purchasing two gallons of milk, a box of cereal, and toilet paper. When I arrived at the check-out lane I was confronted by the disinterested, gum smacking, looked-too-young-to-be-pregnant cashier with the slightl bovine expression on her face. She began to drag my items across the scanner.

“Do you want your milk in a sack?’ she asked.

“No, thank you,” I replied. “It’s easier to pour out of the jug.”

No reaction. Nothing. And it’s a good line. It’s not mine. I don’t remember where I heard it, but it almost always gets a chuckle.

She dragged the cereal across the scanner, and then reached or the toilet paper.

“Do you want your toilet paper in a bag?” she asked.

OOOOOOOOOOOOO, such dilemmas. Should I have said it? Should I have taken the obvious line? Would she have noticed?

“No thank you, it’s easier to use without the plastic?”

I didn’t say it. I thought it. And then I started to giggle. I looked up to the cashier and noticed that she was staring off over my shoulder, her mind…somewhere.

“No thank you,” I answered.

Two things happened later last night that gave me hope for my future. One is that the Boss, while she knew what I was blogging, looked at me and told me that she was thinking about me yesterday afternoon and thought to herself how much she loved me. If she could still say that while knowing what I was typing, I am a blessed man. The second was the General, who sat at the kitchen table eating ice cream.

“A penny for your thoughts,” I offered. “Or thirty-six cents for your whole brain.”

“Give me the penny,” he replied.

I gave him a penny.

“A fool and his money are soon parted,” he said.

It’s comforting to know that the third generation is secure!