You'd think the store is filled with dreams. You can go shopping, get groceries AND a new dress. You can buy tires AND popcorn chicken. I used to love it there--until someone called me the "L" word.
This picture had me ROLLING!
So, you might think the "L" word is "loser," "lardo" or "lackey." (Welcome to the letter of the day.) But it's NONE of those. The "L" word is far worse!
So, I shopped, getting stuff for curry chicken because I like it spicy, when suddenly one of the employees came up to me. He'd been shelving bread and apparently wanted to say a friendly "hello."
"You're always smiling," he said. "You seem like such a nice Lady."
My self esteem dropped to the ground. I felt like a once young, lively person who'd died right there in the store. I turned into an ugly hag because it's the first time I realized . . . I'm getting older.
That boy, that bread lovin' offender! He'd called me the "L" word. But I wasn't sure, so I used my best, fake smile and asked through my teeth, "What did you just call me?"
That boy looked scared--like someone had filled his balls with estrogen.
"A lady? You seem like a nice lady," he said, shaking from the power of repetition.
I left after that. (I mean I paid for my stuff and then I left.)
I HATE the word "lady." So, I called a good friend and told her about it. "He called me a 'lady,' " I said.
"Well, what's so bad about that?"
" 'Lady,' is something you call a ninety-year-old woman. 'Lady' is what you call the sweet, old spinster. 'Lady' is a great name--for a dog."
"But someone called me a lady the other day."
"And you should be completely offended," I said, but she wasn't. Ignorance . . . it must be blissful! She laughed then, thinking I'm hysterical when I'm just trying to bring knowledge her way.
People don't call a teenage girl "a nice lady." Hell, I could be one-hundred and I'd still be offended about it. I might look old, but that doesn't mean I'm dead.
So, as I thought about what a "lady" I must be, I remembered why I started shopping at Wally World in the first place. If you must know, I go there because a bagger at Smith's (the local grocery store) always hits on me.
Now Smith's must be the place to get hit on. I know four people who've suffered from these same symptoms. Cade is one of them. Once he ran into Smith's and when he came out, a girl followed him. Cade got more than bread from the store that day.
He fumbled into the van and said, "Wave, Elisa, wave. I forgot my wedding ring and she wouldn't believe I'm married."
I waved then, like I wanted a spark to burst into flame! I watched as her smile turned upside down and she went back TO SMITH'S to seek a new victim.
There's something about that grocery store. It's better than beer; it helps people gleam in the best light possible. Anyway, I stopped shopping there because I just wanted essentials, not dinner and a movie.
But now I'm at a crossroads. Would I rather beat up a bag boy, or shop at a place where they fling offensive words faster than they roll back prices?
The choice is hard,
the answers are few,
now I know
what I must do.
It's time to confront a bag boy. I have to pull on my big girl boots! I knew this day would come. Every time I run from a problem, it always rushes back to bite me.
Plus, who is he to make people quit shopping at a place they like. I've been missing out on their free "Smith's kid cookies." Who cares that "love" stirs in the air. I'm stronger than their craziness. I'm better than that!
So, today, I'm bringing my army of children and I'm gonna shop at Smith's if I want to. People don't use the "L" word there (unless they're referring to "love").
Wish me luck, I hope this will go well.
Is there a word you hate being called?