A snippet from our last trip to the grocery:
B. and I stand in line behind two other carts - a man in his early seventies (wearing all khaki, looking very retired with house shoes and driving cap) is directly in front of us, and a smart looking woman (blond bob, business attire) is in front of him.
When the line lulls a bit, although B. and I don't even notice the pause, the man turns to Brandon - since he's so macho looking and all - and comments, "It's not me holding up the line. Must be a female thing."
Brandon, not interested in this strange effort at male bonding, continues to flip through the TV Guide and pick out which Kit Kat he wants. When the woman returns from checking a price, the line moves forward and she goes on her way.
The man, now at the register, waits as good old Corey the clerk scans his netted bag of oranges. A frown grows on Corey's brow. Turning first to the man and then to the bagger he asks, "Do you know how much these cost?" Shrugs and blank looks all around, so the bagger shuffles off to check the sticker in the produce section.
The man now avoids eye contact with us, shifting his weight awkwardly on the spot.
We can't contain our snickering, and although I try to control myself, I'm all, "A female thing? A female thing?! Who's female now!?" at the man and Brandon attempts to hide my glee by plastering the TV Guide over my face.
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