On Being Witty

I was in a mad rush to finish up my Christmas shopping last Monday. Every year, mid-November I think, "I'll just buy a few things for the family and call it done" and every year, by December 20th, I've gotten gifts for tons of people, and spent way too much money. The thing is that I get an idea in my head, and then it's a mini-project that I have to finish.

I was still missing a few items, but I had a moment to stop in to Best Buy and pick them up. It was probably my fourth trip in as many days. At Best Buy, there is one long line, and when you get to the front, the next available person takes you. I approached the front of the line, items in hand and gave the various lines the once over.

There was the kid who's so weird, standing next to him would make me Steve Urkel look like George Clooney. I remember once reading that the key to women was to always hang with a friend who is uglier than you are. I considered asking him if he'd like to go to a Christmas party, or just hang sometime. He'd be my ringer.

Next to him was overly enthusiastic girl. She seems nice, but I can only be asked so many times if I found everything okay. Come on lady, you know me. I practically have your website memorized. My visits to Best Buy are more regular than a 26 year who eats well and takes Metamucil.

Next to her... Next to her was the cute short girl who I find intimidating despite the fact that she can't possibly be taller than 4'11 and is probably no older than 25. She'd been my cashier at least twice before, and somehow it was always very friendly, but not to the point of being weird. For me, a conversation with a stranger that isn't a complete train wreck comes around about as often as the Cardinals going to the Superbowl, but somehow it always manages to happen with her.

Naturally her line opened up first. I dumped my arm full of items on to the counter and began awkwardly digging through my pants for my "rewards card". As I did we discussed our holidays, the shopping, and how things had been. As she scanned the last item she said with a surprise, "Oh. It says here you get a 10 dollar gift card."

30 seconds later I would realize that a fun reply would be, "Oh. Wow... Um... How embarrassing. I didn't get you anything."

Unfortunately for me, I didn't wait 30 seconds to reply, I waited 2. What came out was closer to, "Oh. Um... Cool?"

After I left, I went straight home and mailed Santa a new letter with a brief description of the girl and a request for one, "Ability to think on my feet". While either of those items would have been fantastic, Santa instead brought me a new pair of jeans. I'm sure those will work out just as well.