so there i was, getting checked out at kroger (as opposed to being "checked out" at kroger, which i assure you i was not, because my hard rock cafe sweatpants and almost not clashing shirt do not exactly give off a "sex kitten" vibe- especially after an eight hour shift, plus an hour of unplanned overtime), putting pen to sesame street decorated paper (which reminds me, i need to get my hands on some of those new stamps when they come out later this week), when the teenage cashier stopped scanning the dozen and a half cans of soup i'd found on markdown (half price!) and stared at me.
"are you writing a check?"
"yes, i am. i've learned that i can't have a debit card, because i blow through my money too quickly."
"but...you seem way too young to write checks."
now, i prefer to think that by her comment she meant that even on very little sleep, my youthful good looks remain (mostly) intact......as opposed to the notion (which was a not so pleasant "eureka!" moment during my second phone call of the day with my dad, who i had to call immediately after the incident to regale with the tale) that most checkbook-wielding folks were alive during the pre-muppet era.
