Charlie at the Store

I had a certain SOMETHING that broke.

(and I don’t mean my microwave)

(and you better think of the most embarrassing thing that could break or this post will make no sense whatsoever.)

Today I had a few extra minutes to spare, so I decided to replace the item. But I really didn’t want to go to the store for “experts” because even though the quality is there, so are the creepy truckers. No thanks.

I went to the drug store, because they at least have something workable. Thankfully, that section is right next to the pregnancy planning section, which is totally plausible and respectable, so I stayed to the right and looked discreetly to the left.

I finally decided on my selection, and went around to the makeup counter to check out. No way was I going in the big line. I shop there all the time. Somebody was there. Woot!

I set my items on the counter, trying to act all casual. Because I don’t care how cool you are, buying women’s appliances at Walgreens isn’t exactly the idea of fun and not-humiliating.

When I get nervous, I start talking. I set my record purse up on the counter and started to pull out my money.

“So how are you today?” I asked. (Don’t look weird, Charlie. Don’t look down either. Maybe she won’t notice what you are getting.)

“Good thanks! Wow! I LOVE YOUR PURSE!”

“Oh, thank you! I made it myself!” (Good. the checkout girl was totally distracted and not paying attention anymore. I’m in the clear.)

“Wow! Do you do this for a living?” (She totally digs my stuff! That’s always awesome to hear!)

“Nope, I’m just a stay at home mom who gets bored a lot. I like to keep my hands busy.” (Perfect answer, Charlie! Humble and honest. Gosh, what a pleasant experience this has been! Not embarrassing at all!)

Looking down at my purchase, she giggled. “This should help.”

 

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Author’s Note after the first blog post had already been published-

Ok, I opened the box and checked it to make sure I had the right kind of batteries.

IT HAD ALREADY BEEN USED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

A) There was a long red hair caught in the battery pack.

B) IT WAS STICKY.

I seriously cannot believe this… they know me at Walgreens as “coupon Charlie!”

HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO RETURN THIS?

Will they even believe me when I say “it was previously used and not by me?”

This is bad, people.

I guess this is why you go to the sleazy place with the creepy truckers…

—————-Update 3—————————————–

So I took my friend Theresa with me to Walgreens to make the return. We went to the other store, because I couldn’t face the first girl, just in case she was still there. As I walked up to the line, the gentleman at the photo counter sweetly yelled out “I can help you over here!”

I not-so-sweetly yelled back “NO THANKS! I’m good here!”

So I wait for my turn, with Theresa snickering the WHOLE TIME, and finally it’s my turn. I am trying to be cool.

“So I purchased this at the other location, and I need to return it. Someone else has already used it, and I need to return it. There is a long red hair caught in the battery pack, and my hair is trashy bleached blonde, so I can prove it wasn’t me. I swear it wasn’t me that used it first, I haven’t even had a chance to use it, but I need to return it. Also I blogged about this.”

(I talk when I’m nervous.)

Then Theresa, the loyal and helpful friend, says “It really wasn’t her. Her hair isn’t red.” THANK YOU, Theresa.

That was the moment I plopped the box down on the counter to be seen. And the poor woman behind the counter went bright red and started shaking with a bad case of the church giggles (when you laugh at inappropriate things at inappropriate times).

Clearly, none of us were mature enough to make this easy.

The woman begins to enter the return into the system, giggling the whole time, and she says “I wonder what the reason for return should be? Maybe defective?”

I suggest “Other?”

Theresa tossed in her two cents. ”Pre-used vibrator.”

***dying***

That’s when the woman at walgreens confessed. “I’m trying very hard to be professional about this, but it’s really difficult.”

We understood. Me and Theresa weren’t being professional either. She was snapping pictures on her phone the whole time. I was just praying no one I knew walked in the store.

“I really wish someone we knew would walk in right now!” Theresa said. If she wasn’t such a good friend, I would have punched her in the ovaries right then and there.

“What’s your name?” said the cashier.

“Excuse me?” I said.

“YES.” That was Theresa.

“I have to enter your name in the computer to return this.”

In a very quiet voice I said “Charlie Hester.”

She must not have heard me well because she wrote Charlie Ester in the computer. I did NOT correct her.

“Address and phone number, please” she said between giggles.

Theresa pipes in “Is there any way you need to use the loud speaker for this? I would just LOVE THAT!”

“I hate you Theresa.”

But I got my revenge after the return was made, because I dragged her to the adult store by the truck stop with me. Because I do not go to the store by the truck stop alone. It’s like the bathroom rule. YOU ALWAYS TAKE A BUDDY. And turns out, all the stuff in there made her TOTALLY UNCOMFORTABLE. So at least for the 8 minutes we spent in the store, I got to turn the tables a bit. She wouldn’t look anywhere but at the floor.

At least that’s the story she told me I had to write and I’m sticking to it.

I love you Theresa…