So I’m at the 15 Items or Less line in the grocery store. Safeway to be exact. Checkstand #2 to be even more exact. I realize I’m standing behind my neighbor. He’s an old guy who I’ve seen several times around the neighborhood who always seems a little out of it and every time we meet, he has this glazed look on his face like he has no idea who the hell I am. So I decide not to embarass myself in front of everyone around me by saying hello and re-introducing myself for the umpteenth time only to be followed by little or no awkward conversation. And when I say he’s my neighbor, I mean that he LIVES NEXT DOOR TO ME and if he can’t be bothered to remember me, I can’t be bothered to be remembered.
He’s unloading his basket. And unloading. And unloading. I’m about to start counting his items to see if he’s over 15 (because I’m impatient and bored, and I needed to be needlessly riled up), but before I could count past three or so items, some lady with the telltale green apron and name tag says to me, “I can take you over here on Checkstand #1. So I saunter over to Checkstand #1.
Mid-saunter, I brush up against a tall stack of Entenmann‘s chocolate cakes, setting some of them askew. The man who has followed me to the newly opened Checkstand #1, wearing a business suit, helps me to straighten them out. I figure, we’ve worked together now, I should say something. Being the comedian I think I am, I say something like, “Boy, I almost went over the 15 item limit there – ha ha ha!”
He didn’t even acknowledge it. All I could hear were the crickets as I waited for the belly laughter from my audience of one. My invisible Critic From Hell swooped over and enveloped me with his black cape of comedy doom. Oh the horrors!
I suddenly felt very lonely as I was transported back to my youth and remembered when the self-labeled “cool kids” looked down their noses at me to make me feel like dirt, whenever I tried to be funny. They’d toss their perfectly feathered hair away from me as if I were some crass idiot. The snobs.
My freshman English teacher chastised me on paper when I wrote a silly essay, trying to turn a dull assignment into something fun. I was taught at an early age that writing is not fun. It is a chore to be taken very, very seriously. This isn’t a creative writing class, young lady.
So anyway this guy in the grocery store…it bugs me that this guy helps me with the boxes, leading me to believe that it was socially acceptable to speak to him, and then nothing? NOTHING? What the hell?
I walk out to the parking lot and drive home trying to figure out what went wrong:
Did he think I was some crazy lady who talks to strangers and would be waiting for him outside to ask him for money?
Did he not get the joke?
Did I misinterpret his trying to help me and instead it was just that he’s really anal and he couldn’t stand seeing the cake boxes askew and had to fix them immediately?
Maybe he didn’t even hear me, but was afraid to ask me what I said because then I might get all familiar on him and try to accost him outside for money. And what’s his problem always worrying about storefront panhandlers, anyway?
Or maybe the Grocery Karma God in the Sky was getting back at me for not saying hello to my neighbor. In fact I’m a total hypocrite for complaining about the guy behind me not working with me, when I can’t even say hello to a guy I share part of a roof with.
My book review for The Brightest Moon of the Century by Christopher Meeks has been published on Curled Up With a Good Book. You can read it HERE if you wish.A big THANK YOU to Sherry of My Loonyverse for these two beauties!
I would go with “He is secretly in love with you and you speaking to him has left him tongue tied.”
Humor is subjective. Don’t worry yourself about suit man’s lack of a funny bone.
I bet he was deaf because who couldn’t laugh at Nanny Goats?
LOl! Listen, this is what I do. When I make a joke and no one laughs, I just wait a few seconds and then jump and yell, “Boo!!” at the person standing closest to me!
LOL!!!
I think it’s worse when you have to explain the joke and they still give you the blank I don’t get it look.
You took me back to my teen years and the crickets I used to hear, too.
That suit guy definitely didn’t deserve all the attention you gave him in your head, but I would’ve done the same thing.
I’d file this under “you can never tell what someone’s thinking…or if he’s thinking at all.” Might just be a flat EEG tone up there.
So…had to come back and add that I was impressed Christopher Meeks actually came here to respond to your book review. And equally impressed at how gracious he was.
I would have cried. But that’s just me.
I thought for sure you were going to say suitman quickly cut in front of you while you were struggling with the cake and lost-joke-awkwardness. I would have nailed him in the head with said cake if that happened.
I laugh out loud whenever I see the name of your blog!! LOVE IT!!
Hallie
Hey, I even gave a smile when I read that… and I’m all myself, so I don’t laugh out loud. I’m voting for the need to have the pile straightened. Because that could have been me 🙂
I LOVE that story. I just wanted you to know that everytime you leave a comment on my blog I laugh outloud because I love your blog name so much.
omg that was funny.
Ahh yes, the sound of crickets. My jokes get that response a lot 🙂
Great story.
well he was just sick and wrong and his panties were to knotted up in that damn suit!! I would have laughed right along with ya – but then I laugh all the time when I read your blog, you totally rock and you’re totally funny – don’t let the “suit” get you down!!
My first thought was that maybe he didn’t speak English. That’s a good story-that way, you were still funny, and he was still a nice guy.
The neighbor thing-I am terrible with recognizing people outside of their natural habitat, so even if I wave to my neighbor on a regular basis, I may not recognize him walking by me in the grocery store. When he is in his yard, cutting his lawn, I know who he is immediately. In the grocery store, hmmm…that guy looks familiar. And I’m not even old.
Perhaps he was meditating.
Margaret–
I received a Google alert about your review of “The Brighest Moon of the Century.” It took to your story about your time at the checkout counter, which I fell into. It’s hilarious. I love the Entemann cakes sliding onto the belt and your comment, which was a Tiny Fey moment.
When I read you’d once turned a dull Freshman essay assignment into something fun, I flashed on when I’d done the same thing. My assignment was to write about a hobby. I protested to all my friends about what an uninspired assignment that was. Thus, I made my hobby into chunk-kicking–smashing off those hunks of snow that collect on car fenders in the winter. I hadn’t been chastised, though. My professor read my paper aloud and said all the other papers were God-awful. I was the only one who made it interesting.
We’re also similar in that I once reviewed books–for newspapers (pre-Internet).
Thus I was in a good mood when I came to your review. Ah, well. I can’t win ’em all. I thank you for reading the book and writing about it. There’s nothing harder than writing a mixed review, and I like the quote you pulled.
As your checkout-stand blog reflects, humor is subjective. What I saw as funny, perhaps you saw as didactic. Many other readers and reviewers enjoyed the book, and in the end, each book finds its audience.
Like all good essayists and reviewers, you support your points, so what’s to argue? I’ll see if the next book you might like better.
Maybe his balls were itching from some STD he caught from a lady he met in line once… and he was concentrating on that? It’s the only explanation I can come up with.
You is funny!
No worries. He probably didn’t speak-ay de Engles.
I can’t stand to waste a good line on somebody and they don’t get it.
How old is your neighbor? Maybe he’s just having memory issues and can’t remember your name. I’m terrible with names. My neighbors remember my name but I can never remember theirs. It’s because I avoid them like the plague. (Just because you live next door to me doesn’t mean I have to be your best friend.) Anyway, I hate when I’m forced to say hello and there is a pregnant pause where the name should be.
And as far as the guy helping you with the boxes, he probably had that superior thing going on where he was aggravated that you were careless enough to knock the boxes over and being the “bigger” adult person, of course he had to help you pick them up but there was no obligation for conversation. (Don’t you hate run-on sentences?)
Okay, explain it to me. You knocked over the cakes, put them back, were not going to the express lane, but you said “Almost went over the fifteen items.”
I’m not sure I get it either, but I’m taking your side anyway because you’re cool and I like you.
I say we drag that grouch outside and kick the crap outta him.
So VERY glad I’m not the only one stuff like that happens to!
It’s either that, or I get all the way out to my car and half way out of the parking lot before I even THINK of the one liner that would have been perfect and made him bust a gut laughing and have to call his wife on the way home to say, hey honey, guess what this chick in the store just said!?
sigh.
Yeah I usually get people scooching away from me and looking at me like I have 6 eyes and 3 breasts.
Some people are just out of it. In their own little world.
I would have laughed with you.
See? This is why it is best to only communicate in text.
I think he didn’t understand. People with suits rarely understand things, I’ve found. They need to have it all written down on forms with copies and memos and crap. That way they can pass it on to someone else who will explain.
Ugh – maybe he just had botox and his face was stuck??? or maybe he was just a grouch :(???
there is nothing funny about going over the express lane limit, mam! trust me, i was a cashier for too long ;0)
That happens to me at least once a day at work. Some people just don’t get my humour. Then I feel stupid and stew about it for awhile. Soon enough however I get over it and open my yap again.
Suitman’s undies were probably wedged up his butt crack.
Well if I were there, I would have laughed. That was damned funny. I hate when stuff like that flops.
Congrats on the awards, I haven’t seen those before. It nice to see some variety!
This to me sometimes too. I think the jokes are just over their head. Obviously you make everyone laugh here!
Perhaps he had his tongue cut out by the Grocery Karma God in the Sky, for not talking to *his* neighbor who was in front of him, so he couldn’t answer you…
Great post. I love the little insignificant ones the most. 😀
I thought it was funny. Obviously, when heaven was handing out senses of humor, he got in the wrong line.
That happens to me ALL the time!
I try to be cute and funny and witty and I get nuthin!
I guess that means I’m neither cute, funny or witty.
Remember that scene in Annie Hall when Alvey Singer (Woody) tries to recreate a funny situation he shared with Annie with a new woman after his breakup with Annie? You know when the lobster gets loose in the kitchen and goes behind the fridge. He says he’ll get it to come out the other side by trusting a small bowl of melted butter at it. And, hence, no reaction from the new woman.
Some people are just duds that way.
baaaah-d man! (trying to say that with my best sheep interpretation?!)
by the way do goats baa-aaa-aah too? perhaps you should have baaah-d back at him with that!
Well, maybe not if you plan on shopping there again!
Have a great day!
Your cake story is pretty much what happens to me at every meeting that I have at work. I try to be funny and charming and convivial (good word, no?) but I get a sea of faces staring back at me that look like they have been sniffing cat poo. It’s a tough room most of the time.
But we don’t sweat them. We entertain ourselves most of the time and damn if I don’t think I’m funny and I KNOW you’re funny. We don’t sweat the haters. Living with themselves is hell enough.
Well, you always make me laugh, so I’m voting on the “didn’t hear you” or “didn’t get it” possibilities. Your elderly neighbor may be suffering some dementia or be in the early stages of Alzheimers, so definitely don’t take it personally. I have clients I’ve visited every month for years and they still never remember me. Isn’t it amazing how those childhood experiences can really stick with us…glad you didn’t listen to that dumb old English teacher!!! 🙂 Susan
So did you buy the Entenmann’s chocolate cake?
I know this is so not the point but, man, it could’ve gotten you through this encounter!
Feh…he’s a grouch!
Peace – Rene
Ugh – I hate silences like that!!
Suitman may not have laughed, but I bet your neighbor in the next lane was laughing at you all the way home….you know, next door, where he won’t know you.