Stopped by Bi-Mart on Sunday morning for some tent stakes, and while there I also grabbed some jerky and honey-roasted peanuts, two key components of my diet.
At the cash register, I ended up shooting the breeze momentarily with the checker, a woman approximately my age.
Now, having been taught good manners by my parents, I am as into politeness as the next person, probably more so; I try always, for example, to say please and thank you anytime the situation remotely calls for it.
Still, while I know respect was definitely intended, and respect is what I felt, it seemed odd to have the checker address me as “sir” about three times in our 60-second conversation, especially given my super casual attire of blue cargo shorts, a red Madras High sweatshirt and black Nike running shoes.
Turning away from the checkout stand, I then nearly bumped into a couple walking out with a pair of large plastic bins.
“Oh, I’m sorry, excuse me,” I said after avoiding the collision.
“No problem. Your just fine, sir,” said the woman, who appeared to be in her early to mid 30s.
Sir? Again?
Oh well. Extra formally polite is definitely better than extra impolite.
And now, our Catch of the Day, No. 46, a late-1960s Wilson-made Catfish Hunter model. Catfish, a Hall of Famer for the A’s and Yankees, threw a perfect game in 1968.
4 comments
Cory Frye says:
Aug 28, 2012
Did either sing the Lulu song at you?
Steve Lundeberg says:
Aug 28, 2012
Funny thing is they both did.
John Lovejoy says:
Sep 10, 2012
It’s been decades since a checker called me sir. Now I’m used to it. What gets me, though, is when they wonder whether I need help getting my five pounds of groceries to the car.
(“Your just fine, sir”? C’mon, man! Does your paper still have a copy desk?)
Steve Lundeberg says:
Sep 12, 2012
Yes, we have a copy desk; the copy desk is what lays out the pages. The city editor and her helpers edit the copy for the paper. No one edits the blog copy before the writer hits the publish button, and I will admit I don’t edit/proofread my own blog work all that carefully; it’s just some hopefully semi-entertaining ramblings on the Internet after all, not a master’s dissertation. Usually I am writing it around midnight, at home while having a beer if I am lucky, still at the office if I am not. My apologies for the incorrect use of the word “your.”