I recently went shopping with my friend, Mr. Peach. Peach is not his real name, of course, it was bestowed upon him by a confused foreign government which upon welcoming him to an international event left him an envelope addressed to “His Divine Excellency, Mr. Peach.” Such is the nature of diplomacy.
In any event, we found ourselves with several hours to kill, and began a sojourn in search of clip-on sunglasses (for me) and a headset with microphone (for Mr. Peach). Heading south of Ft. Collins, we found ourselves on a wide boulevard lined with megastores, and pulled into a parking lot in front of Target. There are those who think Target is pronounced, “Tarjay” and I will admit I like the sound of it, but nothing could have prepared me for Tarjay.
It was cavernous, but unlike a cavern’s dimness, Tarjay was awash in illumination. We were immediately accosted by a red-shirted young lady named Michelle, who with pigtails whipping back and forth in unbridled enthusiasm, asked if we needed help.
“I’m looking for some clip-on sunglasses, Michelle,” I responded. Her expression dropped, eyebrows knitted as she fell deeply into thought. “Hmm,” she perked up, “let me ask!” No sooner had she said this then we were approached by another young lady dressed in red, who conferred with Michelle. A third employee strode over, joined the conversation and began speaking into a small walkie-talkie.
I turned to Mr. Peach. “I think we are about to be arrested by security,” I offered, and we both began to laugh, perhaps too hard as evidenced by the long faces of Michelle and her two associates. “We stopped carrying that product some time ago,” she said, and I suddenly felt very, very old. “Thanks so much,” I replied and turning, we left the store. “Interesting!” said Mr. Peach. “Indeed,” I agreed, and we laughed too hard again. Next stop – Office Depot!
The selection of headsets was substantial, but Mr. Peach was justifiably concerned that his chosen product work properly with his Mac, which he had brought along. Michael, the helpful Office Depot employee did his best to help, but in the end suggested we purchase the product, go over to Starbucks and use their wireless connection to download the proper software. By this time it was 5 P.M. If it did not work, he said, we could bring it back by 6 P.M. for a refund. “And where is the Starbucks?” asked Mr. Peach, “Can we walk?” “Well,” said Michael, “It’s a schlep. I would drive,” he said.
We paid at the counter, where a young woman helped us. Her badge said “TINA – In Training.” “Are you training to be Tina?” asked Mr. Peach, and we both laughed too hard again. She looked confused. “Your badge…oh, nevermind,” I stammered. “Thanks!” we said and left. “Interesting!” said Mr. Peach. “Indeed,” I agreed. Gales of laughter followed.
The download at Starbucks, just a block from Office Depot, was a total failure. Despite the purchase of a $5 Starbucks Card we never connected to the internet. We did enjoy some coffee and several fits of laughing. “I was once diagnosed with a disorder,” Mr. Peach explained. “They said an over-abundance of dopamine and serotonin was making me excessively happy.” “Indeed,” I replied.
And you know what happened next.
