This morning I went to Target.
I purchased three items: a package of Bakugan cards/balls, some synthetic motor oil for my SUV and a Gerber Graduates meal for Maggie's lunch.
It was a quick transaction, as it usually is when one has three items. There was not much time for small talk.
As I walked away, the cashier exclaimed, "Have fun cleaning!"
"Yea, thanks," I said and waved as I walked away with my purchases.
It took me a approximately two seconds.
Wait. A. Minute.
Have fun cleaning? Why would she say something like that? Did we have a conversation that I was unaware of? Was I buying a product used to clean some sort of surface in my home? Did she overhear something said to Wesley?
All of the answers were big, fat "no's."
I looked at what I was wearing. Exercise clothes.
I made the effort and did 25 minutes of exercise this morning.
**I pat myself on the back.**
I am about 15 pounds heavier than earlier this summer, so the "exercise" process of the daily walk/jog is a bit more laborious, but I did it.
(The second part of my Grande Strategy is not eating everything in sight. This is, as always, the more difficult half of the battle for me.)
I was wearing cropped yoga pants, a zip up jacket and my baseball cap to hide the fact that I hadn't showered in two days.
So...it was my APPEARANCE, apparently, that intimated that I was cleaning. I didn't know whether to be amused or pissed.
I thought about calling my sister in law to tell her I was highly offended in order to get free stuff.
My sister-in-law works at the corporate headquarters at Target and has been very helpful. She provides an attentive ear for our pissed off complaints about the Target missteps that we have encountered over the years.
"Molly. We waited for FIVE WHOLE MINUTES to be waited on at Food Avenue. It was completely unacceptable and we expect that you will take care of this problem."
We heard there was some sort of meeting to address this.
We were appeased.
"Molly. We were at Super Target today and the lines were RIDONKULOUS. We might as well have been at Walmart!"
Nothing moves a Target corporate individual faster to action than a comparison to Walmart.
She inquired whether or not we needed coupons to feel better.
We felt as if we did not, as we were not PERSONALLY offended. But we kept the offer in the back of our minds.
"Molly. I was buying groceries today at Super Target and the check out moron asked for Calvin's ID when I was buying a bottle of wine."
"Seriously. I am not even joking," I said.
"I was buying groceries and a bottle of shiraz for dinner," I continued.
"The check out girl asked for Calvin's ID. I told her 'My son is 14 and is just accompanying me for a grocery run,' but she was adamant that she needed an ID to prove he was 21."
I didn't think this was the Target policy, but I am not the type to cause a scene and ask for a manager.
Instead, I handed my cell phone to Calvin and said, "Call Molly."
She didn't answer, but I felt powerful. Like I was somebody with a little hidden superpower, ready to use it on unsuspecting Target employees who dared to err me.
Molly again asked if we wanted coupons.
We declined because we were satisfied that this erroneous error on the cashier's part was addressed. Chris received a phone call from a manager apologizing about the situation.
The cashier was informed, again, of the alcohol policy. We were, again, appeased.
So should I, or shouldn't I, rat out this particular cashier who commented on my appearance?
I am still trying to decide.
It is an embarrassing situation, because honestly, was I THAT dumpy? It says something about ME to be out in public looking like such a wreck. It is sort of like being asked if you are having a garage sale when you are, indeed, not having a garage sale. Embarrassing, right?
And...I WAS dumpy.
The black yoga pants I was wearing have holes in the crotch. But Chris assures me that the holes are not visible when I am walking. And hell....I don't do yoga, so I am not stretching out my inner thighs in public. No one will know that there are holes except for me.
And now, you.
There is a small chance that I smelled foul. My hair was greasy, but it was hidden underneath a baseball cap.
I suppose I looked as if I might have plans to clean.
But, really. I didn't need that pointed out to me.
I have said it before; I should take care in my appearance. Right now I am not in a place to care too much. Except when someone else takes notice. Then I am all over it. Like today.
Perhaps I will lodge a complaint that my feelings were hurt. Can you put a coupon amount on that?
We shall see.