No, I don't want to take a number.

Today was the first day in over a week I could really run any errands after school, so I went to three places, all of which required waiting. First stop? NJ inspection station to get my car inspected. Yay. As there were two cars in front of mine once I was inside the station, I had to stand for a half an hour for what takes about five minutes or ten minutes, tops. The car passed. Unfortunately for me the guy doing the inspection was about four inches shorter than me and when I got in my car the steering wheel performed the Heimlich Maneuver on me. That's ok, dude. I didn't need those ribs.

Then I went to Target. I bought way too much stuff and of course they had three cashiers to wait on about twenty people with lots of stuff. (Are you sensing my impatience?)

Finally, I was off to pick up a pair of shoes that I ordered over a month ago from my shoe store. When you teach, good shoes are really important or you'll ruin your back and feet. So when I walk into the store, it is really busy, but there is a woman at the register taking a phone call. When she is finished with the customer service call, she asks what I need and I tell her that I'm just picking up shoes that I ordered (paid for, too). In her mommish, looking down her nose at me voice, "Well, ma'am have you taken a number [yes, they are that busy of a store]? We like for customers to try the shoes on, first."

"No, I didn't take a number and I tried the shoes on when I paid for them. I had to order black when all you had was blue. I should be fine."

"Ma'am. Are you sure you don't want to take a number and try on the shoes?"

"Yes."

Mommish and annoying, "Oooooookayyyyyy."

When she returned with the shoes, she showed them to me so that I could identify them (didn't realize it was a line-up. "Yes, officer. Those shoes are responsible for me kicking that woman's ass if she doesn't let me out of her store any time soon.")

So then I make the mistake of telling her I'd like to purchase a shoe horn. Ugh. Again, as slow as a new bottle of ketchup and mommish, "Which one would you like?"

"Umm, any one of those hanging behind you is fine."

"Which color would you like?"

"Any color." (Stares at me blankly.) "Ok, that yellow one." At this point I'm about to deck her.

Then she says, "Hmm. I just don't know if these are the shoes marked on the 'paid for' part of your history card. One moment." (I went there last week to inquire about my long-lost shoes and the owner waited on me. I know those are the shoes I paid for, damnit!) "Jim...could you come here for a minute?" He's got the oh, shite, I've got to talk to that annoying woman look on his face. "Are these the shoes marked 'paid for' on this card?"

"Yes, it says it right there." (In my head..."Damnit, lady, I told you I paid for them. I have the frickin' receipt!" Blood pressure rising.)

"Well, I just wanted to be sure. You never know." DO I LOOK LIKE AN IDIOT? DO I LOOK LIKE A FRAKIN' SHOE-NAPPER?

That was a half an hour I will never get back in my life!