Very bad at writing self-descriptions, but likes to think she’s good at writing of other kinds. Oh, and experimental psychology. That’s kind of her thing, too.
Oblivious to my pain, the walking disaster looked at me with her wide, mascara-smudged eyes and spoke in a tone of voice fitting for a drill-sergeant or an opera singer. Not a supermarket. “Please, sir! I’m really sorry, but could you please help me? I’m looking for these berries, see—”
Repressing the urge to point out to her that this was a Wal-Mart queue, not a Shakespearean stage, I pointed instead to the throng of shop assistants milling about the place, looking about as enthusiastic about the whole thing as I was; but hey, they were getting paid for it. “There, look. They can help you find them. It’s their job. I don’t work here.” I tried to turn to leave, but her death-grip on my arm hadn’t subsided. She was shaking her head. “They told me to go to the frozen foods section, but there weren’t any rememberries there!”
Oh, lovely. She couldn’t have just been upset, no. She had to be an upset lunatic. With my best compassionate face – which probably came across as a grimace due to my injury, courtesy of this darling girl – I attempted to explain to her that I didn’t know what in God’s name she was going on about.
She, of course, was having none of it.
“Rememberries! They’re like normal berries, but they’re very rare, and they help you, um, well… remember things. And I really need to find them!”
“And you thought you could find them at a Wal-Mart?” Unfortunately, instead of the insult, exasperation, and consequential departure my sarcastic and most uncourteous tone was meant to cause, the girl took it as a sign I knew what she was talking about. She began chattering rapidly, going on about a childhood promise, a name she needed to remember – hence the weird berry obsession, I imagine – and something about a tree? Naturally, since she was so blissfully unaware of the growing queue behind us, the looming security personnel inching towards us and the shrillness of her own voice, she hadn’t realized the horror of what was currently happening, the living nightmare unfurling before my eyes.
We were causing a scene. Read more...