Tuesday, April 8, 2008

Stock boy

As I push my cart down the aisle, a strange-looking (or rather normal looking for a stock boy)stock boy turns to me, and says in a sort of whispery shout, "Security!" I'm not sure what he means, but he has some kind of grin on his face. I immediately think he must be mentally handicapped. He asks how I'm doing. I smile and tell him I'm great. I continue pushing my cart swiftly down the aisle, at which point he begins to walk quickly to keep up with me, walking while staring at me, right next to me, keeping step.

"Finding everything?"
"Yes."
"Are you looking for a servant?"
What? "No, not really. I work better alone."
"But you see, that's just it---if you had a servant, you wouldn't have to work. I'd do everything for you."
At this point, I'm not sure whether to be flattered or frightened, so I pretend to be neither. "That's a good point," I tell him. "I'll have to think about that." I continue on, and he stops following me.

In retrospect, I don't think he was slow. He was just weird. Very weird.

1 comment:

dramaturge said...

What? You don't want a servant? Why ever not? haha