I had high hopes for our little jaunt to Knysna to collect my shiny new debit card but the whole thing started to go downhill from the time I entered the bank until I stomped out, frothing at the mouth after telling the cashier to shove my new debit card where the sun don’t shine. This whole fiasco caused an unnecessary 180 kilometre round trip to Mossel Bay, I don’t handle incompetence gracefully and well sometimes I’m just not a nice person. Nevertheless, you’ll be proud of me, I was determined to make lemonade from lemons and Terry and I decided we would do all the little errands we needed to along the way and finish off with a bit of shopping at the Garden Route Mall.
Everything was going swimmingly until we got to Woolworths to buy new underwear. You see peeps, here’s a little detail about myself I’m not proud of, I am completely anal when it comes to choosing things, for example, what to eat at a restaurant. I keep trying to imagine what each dish will taste like and wondering, “Is that what I really feel like eating?” I’m even worse when it come to buying clothes, I struggle to make a firm decision. So there was I, dithering over the new Boy-Cut, 3-in-a-pack cotton underwear, should I take the striped ones or the spotted ones? Medium or large? Not allowed to try them on, can’t take ’em back if they don’t fit, dilemma, dilemma.
Finally, exasperated from all my indecision Terry blurted out, “For goodness sake! Just choose a pack, for 89 rand it’s not going to be the end of the world if they don’t fit!” His little outburst prompted me to bite the bullet and decide on the apricot, medium size pack and just to show him that I can be spontaneous too, I chose a five pack of very colourful cotton bobby socks in about ten seconds!
There was bit of a queue at the tills but Terry and I engaged in some playful banter while we shuffled up and shuffled up, waiting our turn to be helped. There was a very stylish looking Afrikaans lady dressed in a denim jacket, flat silver pumps and d-r-i-p-ping with jewellery, eavesdropping just in front of us. She appeared to find our conversation quite entertaining and gave an amused snort every now and then.
Soon it was our turn, Afrikaans lady to the cashier on the right and I ended up with, little-miss-serious-face Winnie Madlala (not her real name), on the left. I made some friendly remark (I was over my earlier hissy fit and nice Moira was back in charge) and placed my items on the counter. I kid you not people, she picked up the packet of knickers, looked me straight in the eye and this is the exchange that followed:
Winnie: “Good afternoon Ma’am are you sure that these are the size you want to take?”
Me: (incredulous) “What do you mean?
Winnie: “Are you sure they are the right size?”
Me: “Why? Do you think they won’t fit me?”
Winnie: “No Ma’am you just need to be sure that they are the right size”
Me: (struggling not to laugh) “Are you saying you think they are too small? Did you look at me and think, hey fatty-boom-boom those will never fit you, best you take a bigger size?”
Winnie: (in deep water now) “No Ma’am, you could be buying them for someone else. We have a no return policy on underwear at Woolworths so you can’t exchange them later if they are the wrong size. ”
I mean honestly, this chick was just opening her mouth to change feet.
The punchline came when Terry exclaimed very loudly,
“I already told you darling, if they don’t fit you, I’ll wear them!”
I couldn’t keep a straight face any longer, the mental picture of Terry squeezing himself into a pair of medium size, apricot coloured, Boy-Cut, cotton undies had me in stitches and I think the Afrikaans lady with the silver pumps almost did herself an injury laughing too.
So the day ended with laughter, nothing wrong with that.
All my love