I’m not sure what my problem is with boys who work in supermarkets. Some of you may remember this post about an encounter last year.
Years ago, I embarrassed myself, my husband and a poor unsuspecting Woolies boy. You see, my husband said to me, just as we walked passed the fresh fruit and veggie section, “Would you like some peaches?” And I threw over my shoulder, saucily with a wink, “I like your peaches.” Only to discover that without waiting for a reply, my husband had taken off for the peaches in question, leaving the actual recipient of my innuendo red faced and stunned.
Yes, that’s right. My husband had somehow been replaced in that milli second by a sixteen year old Woolies boy.
Upon realising this, I dissolved into loud, nose-snorting laughter, which reddened the boy’s face even more, as he stuttered about for something to say.
I put an end to his misery and moved my trolley to another aisle. I had regained my composure by aisle four but lost it again when my husband finally caught up with me and I told him what had happened. Now both of us couldn’t stop laughing. The Woolies boy had apparently taken an early tea break because we saw neither hide nor hair of him for the rest of our shop.
We still laugh about it whenever we are in the ‘peach’ section 🙂
And just the other day, I did it again.
I was trying to squeeze past two trolleys and a Woolies boy standing on a big ladder on wheels. One of the trolleys was manned by a small girl as her mother deliberated over which brand of pickles to buy. I didn’t want to run the girl over, so I said, quite loudly I guess, “Excuse me, darling.” Now, not only did the little girl turn around but so did the boy standing on the trolley, and yes, he reddened as I hastily assured him he was not who I was speaking to.
Once again, overcome by laughter, my daughter and I quickly exited to the silence that now filled aisle number seven.
I really just should not be allowed in supermarkets.
And now you know why my husband does all the shopping. It’s just better that way.