When I can’t find what I need at Agata’s, I go to D’Agastino’s, a traditional supermarket around the corner from where I live. I’ve been going there for years, maybe once every 10 days or so. I know the manager there by sight only. Over the years, our relationship, if you can call it that, has consisted of my asking him questions, such as, “Do you think you could carry Fiber One Yogurt? It’s a great product and I don’t see it here.” Or here’s another topic we might converse on. “How come you price XYZ product $1.25 more than Associated Grocers down the street?” And there’s even been, on rare occasion, the exchange of an item that didn’t taste right, or expired well before its time. In other words, the few conversations we’ve had over the years have been brief and uneventful.
Tonight I go to D’Agastino’s to pick up a few items. I see the manager and ask him if the store is yet carrying Fiber One Yogurt? He apologizes and says, "No, not yet.” And then, in a surprise move, he approaches me and in a conspiratorial whisper says, “Do you mind if I ask you something?” I can’t possibly imagine what he wants to ask me, but I say, “Sure.” He then says, “Did you lose a lot of weight recently?” I smile and tell him that I have. Then he adds, “You look fantastic. Really. You look great.” And the funny thing is, his comment is made as an observation, not as a pick up line.
I leave the store feeling as good as he says I look. My hair is still scary straight, but at least I am not mistaken for a man.
No comments:
Post a Comment