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[Alex_de_Large]

Originally posted by Not Bob
So, I went to the pharmacy yesterday to pick up some bubble-gum flavored antibiotic (sue me; we all have our little vices), and a sharp-dressed 40ish dude -- slick hair, crispy white shirt, expensive abstract art tie -- gets to the counter just before I do. Kindly old Doc Wilson, the pharmacist, is just about to ring up his purchase when the phone rings.

While sharp-dressed dude fidgets, Doc gets into a deep conversation about HIPPA or HMO reimbursement or something, and steps away from the register to consult a black three ring binder filled with paper. Just then, a cute high school-aged clerk comes up to the register to ring up SDD's item. I had moved up to the counter next to SDD to look at the brochures on home drug tests for teens ("catch that doper brat of yours in the act!"), and glanced over just as she picked up his item from the counter. Trojans, baby.

Maybe I'm projecting, but it was like one of those cartoon thought bubbles appeared above the clerk's head, with the words "ewww, gross!" inside it in large print. At first I also thought that SDD was embarassed, but then I saw him get into a brand new Corvette (hi, atticus!) and realized that he probably didn't notice anything other than how gooooood he looked in the reflection of the mirror behind the counter.

(and, no, this was not me -- I am not sharp-dressed, and I do not drive a vette)

He wasn't embarassed. He was trying to pick you up.