There's the strip mall near our house that has five stores: a donut shop, a dry cleaners, an Asian eatery, a karate studio and a nail place. My husband and I frequent these businesses, especially the donut shop. We're what you'd call regulars. They know us by name.
Every weekend, the husband goes in and grabs us a couple of kolaches and donuts. He is always polite, courteous and leaves a nice tip. They know his face far better than they know mine, and I kind of assumed that rapport he'd built automatically transferred over to me. Apparently, not so.
That morning we'd stopped by the cleaners a couple of doors down to drop off some of the husband's suits, but they were closed and there was no sign indicating their hours of operation. So, in a moment of sheer genius, I decided to asked the girl at the donut shop.
"Hey, what time does the cleaners open?" I asked.
"How I suppose to know?" she asked, turning toward me with a look of disgust in her eyes.
"Oh…" I begin.
"Oh? Oh? Oh, you tink since we Asian so we own dat dry cleaners?" she asked sarcastically. "White family own dat place. You stereotyping. Shame on you. Shame on you."
The next moment is filled with a long pregnant pause. My instinct is to tell her she's wrong, that I just thought she might know since they share a building. But I fight the urge to go on the offensive, especially after I turn and see my husband's bright red ears and the look on his face that says: OH MY GOD, HOW EMBARSSING CAN YOU BE???
Another very still, silent second passes and I think the lady might start throwing donuts at me. Since I'm not prepared for a an apology – I maintain that 9 our of 10 times my presumption would have been correct – I decide to go with what I know best and launch Operation Defuse The Situation With Humor.
"So, I guess that means you don't know if they have time to work me in for a manicure and pedicure at the nail place?"
Before the girl had an opportunity to react, my husband drug me out of the donut shop by the arm and screamed apologies over his shoulder. We get back into our car and sits behind the wheel, staring at me. Finally he speaks:
"Well, that's yet another place we can't show our faces again… and I really liked their donuts."
Every weekend, the husband goes in and grabs us a couple of kolaches and donuts. He is always polite, courteous and leaves a nice tip. They know his face far better than they know mine, and I kind of assumed that rapport he'd built automatically transferred over to me. Apparently, not so.
That morning we'd stopped by the cleaners a couple of doors down to drop off some of the husband's suits, but they were closed and there was no sign indicating their hours of operation. So, in a moment of sheer genius, I decided to asked the girl at the donut shop.
"Hey, what time does the cleaners open?" I asked.
"How I suppose to know?" she asked, turning toward me with a look of disgust in her eyes.
"Oh…" I begin.
"Oh? Oh? Oh, you tink since we Asian so we own dat dry cleaners?" she asked sarcastically. "White family own dat place. You stereotyping. Shame on you. Shame on you."
The next moment is filled with a long pregnant pause. My instinct is to tell her she's wrong, that I just thought she might know since they share a building. But I fight the urge to go on the offensive, especially after I turn and see my husband's bright red ears and the look on his face that says: OH MY GOD, HOW EMBARSSING CAN YOU BE???
Another very still, silent second passes and I think the lady might start throwing donuts at me. Since I'm not prepared for a an apology – I maintain that 9 our of 10 times my presumption would have been correct – I decide to go with what I know best and launch Operation Defuse The Situation With Humor.
"So, I guess that means you don't know if they have time to work me in for a manicure and pedicure at the nail place?"
Before the girl had an opportunity to react, my husband drug me out of the donut shop by the arm and screamed apologies over his shoulder. We get back into our car and sits behind the wheel, staring at me. Finally he speaks:
"Well, that's yet another place we can't show our faces again… and I really liked their donuts."
7 comments:
i am sure glad he went into the shops in pigeon forge by himself. at least we can still go in them. and he gets on your case.
popeye
Uh..popeye, SHE was the one saying the dumb stuff. Not the pure and virtuous husband.
Nice comeback! I never think quick on my feet like that....it would've come to me after I got in the car! Love it!
Jen
Ha Ha I love it! And Popeye is a dumbass!!!!
if bitch granny calls you a dumbass, you are probably a dumbass. she should know all about it being the queen of dumbasses. she passed that on to future generations too. that should get at least one more comment on this blog.
popeye
You can't anger the kalache lady! I love those things! H.
I was so distracted by the kalaches and dounuts I didn't even think to respond to popeye earlier. I need a krispy kreme...Bite me popeye...H. :)
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