You're a Mean One

You know what? I love Christmas. I love decorating and buying presents and helping those in need and making cookies and seeing family and Christmas parties and Christmas music. I love it all. Even Christmas socks.

But I do not love shopping in a specialty store that thinks it's "cute" to be uber-nosey and uber-wisenheimer-y when I've been standing in line holding my giant carpet bag purse and a really heavy box and I've lost feeling in both my arms and I have those icky red stripes on my hand from holding all the stuff for so long my knees are about to buckle. I immediately turn into the GRINCH when cheery sales people ask me these series of questions:

Cheery Clerk: Hi, how are you? Are you getting some Christmas shopping done?
Inner Me: It's Decmeber 14th and it's my lunch hour and I'm buying something only a Grandmother could love and I'm sweaty from wearing my coat in the store but it was too cold to leave it in the car......what do YOU think?
Me: Yes.

Cheery Clerk: I see you found some nice things today!
Inner Me: Shut-up and scan the bar code. I am in a hurry and I do not like it when sales clerks are nosey about what I'm buying/renting/eating.
Me: Yes.

Cheery Clerk: Can I get your phone number, area code first please?

*Sidebar - You should know that I HATE the give the phone number routine. They ask so they can look up your profile in their system and keep track of what you've bought and how often you come in the store blah blah blah. And yes, that's good data for them to have. But it feels like they are asking for my bra size or what side of the bed I sleep on. My phone number is not something I want out there for all the world to dial. Not that they do. It's just the idea. And it drives me crazy.

Me: 615-***-**** (which is actually my office number. Haha! Look at me! Dodging the system like a pro!)

Cheery Clerk: Now will this be all for you today?
Inner Me: Well let me see, I came rushing over here on my lunch break and I've been standing in line for over 15 minutes and there's a huge line of impatient people waiting behind me, but now that you mention it, I'd like to browse a little longer, yes.
Me: Yes.

Cheery Clerk: And how will you be paying for your gifts today?
Inner Me: Well I'm holding out my debit card, so that would seem the obvious choice wouldn't it GENIUS.
Me: Debit

After even more irritating questions, I was finally free to leave with a giant Merry Christmas and some Holiday Kisses blown in my general direction.

Ok, ok - I know it's their job to be overly polite and I know they HAVE to ask for the phone number and I know I sound like a big 'ole jerk.
I guess the secret's out.
I'm a jerk.
Ho Ho Ho.