Everyday Annoyances

 After dinner, my granddaughter wanted to know what we were having for dessert.

My wife, who’s not only beautiful but an excellent cook, hadn’t made dessert, so she informed her, “You don't always have to have dessert.”

My granddaughter wasn't happy with that news.

“Then why did I eat all my food?” she demanded to know.

Yes, you could say my granddaughter has a way with words. The other day I caught her studying my face. I thought it was with love. That is, until she asked me, “When I grow up, are my ears gonna stick out like yours?”

But it's not just my granddaughter. The rest of the world can come up with an occasional odd quip. For example, when my granddaughter and I were hitting all the local used bookstores, we stopped at a sandwich shop you would recognize the name of. I bought a footlong we were going to share.

“Can you cut it in fourths?” I asked the professional sandwich maker before he wrapped it up. He seemed to be in his late teens.

“Sorry,” he said, “but I’ve already cut it in half.”

I'm sure my generation was just as dumb as his seems to be. The nice thing about being young and stupid is you never realize just how stupid you are until you grow up.

I mentioned that I enjoy going to used bookstores. I guess I should tell you why. Besides saving money, the reason I prefer going to used bookstores is, as much as I like Barnes & Noble, the clerks there never want to take my money.

There’s more to it than that, so let me explain. I separate all my change and put it in little tubes made for just that purpose. A tube of pennies is 50 cents. A tube of nickels is 2 dollars. Dimes are 5 bucks, and quarters are 10. When I get 2 dollars in pennies or nickels I’ll buy a lottery ticket so I can feel like a big shot. I’ve never had an issue at the convenience stores concerning my rolled coins. In fact, they seem grateful for the change. Barnes & Noble, however…

When I filled 2 tubes of quarters and one of dimes, I used to like to go to Barnes & Noble and buy a book or exchange it for a $25 gift card. Buying a gift card should feel like you're buying yourself a birthday present, but it never failed, the clerks always looked at the three rolls of coins as if I was handing them phlegm. They made an obvious effort not to touch the rolled coins, as if the act of touching them would obligate them to do their jobs.

“I don’t know if I can take these,” they’d always say, apparently from the same script given to them by their corporate office.

If there was a second clerk nearby, my clerk would ask, “Can we take these?”

The other clerk never seemed to know, either.

“Of course you can take it,” I’d finally cut in. “That money is backed by the United States government.”

Still unsure, they’d say, “I’d better call the manager,” trembling at the thought of the U.S. government getting involved. No one wants to end up at Guantanamo Bay.

The manager, who was always somewhere else, eventually approved, but they weren’t really happy about it, either. I could tell by listening to the one side of the conversation I was privy to. Sometimes the clerks counted the coins, sometimes they didn’t.

I can understand not wanting to count out $25 in change--heck, it may even take as long as one minute--but it’s in dimes and quarters. It’s not like I handed them a burlap sack full of pennies.

And THAT’S why I prefer going to used bookstores. They understand that money is money and they appreciate the business.

I said “used to like to go to Barnes & Noble” because, I hate to admit it, but ultimately the giant book chain defeated me. What I do now is take my coins to the credit union where I’ve opened a special account for the money that comes in from my generous paid subscribers, only the greatest people in the world. When I die, I’m sure they’ll be at the Pearly Gates to great me.

The nice thing about credit unions is they’re more than happy to have customers. The president of the institution himself even greets me at the door, and for that act alone it shows an institution is the right place for him to be.

Sure, someday I might miss being treated badly by Barnes & Noble, but if I ever do feel nostalgic for being abused in public I can always visit my first wife

But to get back on point, never underestimate the average public for odd observations and odder complaints. Besides bookstores, my granddaughter and I go to the public library. Once, while we were there, a man sauntered in with his wife. While they were wandering around, he asked her, “What is this place?”

And then there was the time I was standing in line at a Chick-fil-A. A customer was at a register complaining that the waffle fries tasted too potato-y. Chick-fil-A makes excellent waffle fries, by the way. At least my family loves them. Personally, I think they could use a little more salt.

When a dinosaur exhibit came to town, a family I had the pleasure of eavesdropping on was disappointed to discover there were no real dinosaurs being exhibited, only animatronic ones. My granddaughter got to ride on one of the animatronic ones, so I had no complaints. Besides, isn’t it a good thing not to have to worry that your child might be eaten by a prehistoric carnivore during a family outing?

My buddy Maloney was at a wedding where the choice of food during the reception was beef or chicken.

“I’ll have the fish,” his mother-in-law told the server.

His mother-in-law just doesn’t seem to grasp the concept of food. She’s ordered a QAnon salad when what she meant to order was a quinoa salad. I think she's been listening a little too much to Alex Jones.

Swearing me to secrecy, my buddy Maloney confided that she doesn’t believe we went to the moon because “there’s not an extension cord that long.”

You might think I'm making that up.

I wish I was.

Speaking of making things up, let me end this with something my grandfather always said. He said: “When one door closes, another door opens.” My grandfather was a great man.

But a terrible cabinet maker.