by cheri sabraw
Walking into Crown Drugstore in the Glenmoor Gardens Shopping Center in 1960 with two large hooded rats, Pixie and Dixie on my shoulders, I looked at the pharmacist, who would ask me, Hi Cheri, how are you today?
I would reply, fine thanks. I’m here to pick up some Pepto Bismol for my mother.
That was it. Hi Cheri, how are you?
Today, greeting total strangers has taken on a new and twisted meaning. We are no longer customers at Target Stores. We are guests. At Sephora Stores, we are now clients.
At the bankk yesterday, an adorable male teller who looked as if he were twelve, took my deposit and asked me, how is your day going so far? How was your Thanksgiving dinner?
I’m tempted to tell the truth to these young knights, gallantly uttering mannerly sentences as they lay their capes over the banking or retail mud, the truth about how my day is really going or how my Thanksgiving dinner really was. Poor kids. They are just following their script.
Well, my day has been worse than the worst diarrhea you have ever had! I caught my heel in my hem of my Ann Taylor pencil skirt and fell out of my car over at Starbucks. Then, bleeding knees and wounded ego, I limped into Safeway to buy some bandages. There, I dropped a jar of Clausen’s Kosher Dill Pickles right in front of the cute Pleasanton firemen that were shopping. The glass shattered and as I tried to hop-scotch through the mess, I slipped and landed on the shards.
That is how my day is going so far. Would you like to know more?
Charlie Brown face looks back at me with that mouth that is a zig-zag line.
I am not a damsel in distress–just a rather private person who is not interested in revealing how my day is going or how my Thanksgiving was to kids who really do not care but who are doing their level best to accommodate their HR departments.
Are we really guests at Target? Clients at a make-up store?
Pixie and Dixie, what do you boys think?