“Ran out of groceries again, didn’t you?” This from Tina, the sixty-year-old grandmother of three who rang up my items an hour later.
“You know I hate shopping. I always put it off until I’m absolutely desperate.” I tapped my discount card on the machine.
“You need a man around to remind you to do it. Better yet, do it for you. Good-looking guy like you, shouldn’t be a problem finding somebody.” It was an old conversation.
“You’d think. Apparently they’re all taken, the guys with half a brain.”
“Your total is one hundred thirty dollars and ten cents. Don’t give up on men, honey. There’s someone out there who’s perfect for you.”
I handed Tina a hundred dollar bill and a fifty. She gave me the change and a receipt.
“You have a good night.” She waved me on.
I thanked the guy who bagged
