I went to Costco last night to stock up on veggies before class. While standing in line, a man holding a rotisserie chicken came to stand behind me. He was shortish, with brown hair, a mustache, and maybe mid-late 40’s age range. Below is the saga:
“Is this the shortest line?” he asked.
“I have no idea,” I replied. “I think they’re all long.”
“Well, you’re definitely not the shortest woman. You might be the cutest, though.” He then points at the gentleman in front of me in line. “Is that your guy?”
“No,” I replied.
“Do you have a guy?”
“Do you want a guy?”
“Are you one of those “alternative” people?” he asked.
“No,” I said.
He then points at my veggies. “You eat a lot of vegetables. Are you a vegetarian?”
“No,” I replied.
I think he could tell I was getting a bit uncomfortable because he lifted his hands up and waved them ~ “Oh, I don’t mean anything by it. I’m just talking. Guess how old I am. Nobody every guesses it right.”
I replied, “Sir, I’m really not good at this game. If you’d like to tell me, go ahead, but I won’t guess your age.”
“Oh, it’s not a game. Nobody ever guesses my age right. Go ahead. Guess my age.”
Again, I replied, “Sir, if you want to tell me, that’s fine, but otherwise I have no idea how old you are.”
He then says, “Really, I don’t mean anything by it. I’m just passing time. I do this sort of thing at work all the time. Guess what I do for a living.”
I replied, “Sir, I’m not going to guess. If you’d like to tell me, that’s fine.”
He then proceeds to tell me how he goes to Costco everyday to buy a chicken. He said they hate him at Costco because everyday he buys one chicken, and so he then makes their average per person sales go down. He then asked me again to guess what he did for a living.
By this time I am trying very hard to ignore the fact that this man exists. Yet, he still would not get the hint. He then asked, “Why don’t you want to be bothered? Why don’t you want to talk to me? I’m just trying to talk to you. Why won’t you look at me?”
I then turned and said, “Sir, you’re making me very uncomfortable. Will you please stop talking to me?”
He replied, “But I’m just trying to talk. I’m just friendly. I won’t hurt you. Why won’t you talk to me?”
Luckily, by this time it was my turn to checkout. The checker takes my card and starts scanning my groceries. Stalker-man behind me then leans over tape machine and starts talking to the checker. “You two sure are fun,” he says to the female checker and her male counterpart. “Are you married?”
“No,” she responds.
“Well,” he says, “I’d sure like to get up your dress.” (Yes, he said that. Verbatim)
“Excuse me?” she said. She then turned to me and rolled her eyes, because I’m pretty sure she’d just gotten a clue of what I’d been dealing with for the past few minutes. I then finished paying for my groceries and thought I was in the home stretch…….but then, my receipt got jammed, because Stalker Man was still leaning on the tape machine.
I then left with the male helper dude so that he could tape my receipt together so I could get out of there. I also needed to stop by the deli so that I could get a caesar salad to take with me for dinner. I thought that should have left plenty of time for Stalker Dude to buy his solitary chicken and go.
Stalker Man was waiting at the exit, talking to the man who marks the receipts as you leave. I got my receipt marked, avoided eye contact with Stalker Dude and hurried on out of there. Unfortunately, so did Stalker Man. I then headed to the aisle where my car was. So did Stalker Man. So I continued walking. Past my car. To the end of the lane. And I kept walking around the parking lot until Stalker Dude was no longer following me.
Girls, heed my warning. If you’re in line at Costco and a weird little man with a rotisserie chicken stands behind you in line, run away. Go to a different line and don’t look back. Or don’t. It may make for an interesting story to tell on your blog someday.