I’ve worn glasses most of my life and other than brief times I’ve had contacts I’ve never been able to really appreciate throwing on a pair of sunglasses. When I got my most recent pair of prescription glasses they came with magnetic clip-ons. Which worked great until the magnets yanked them out of my pocket and onto the metal frame of my car door and I promptly closed the door on them.
Because that’s how I roll.
At the sunglasses hut, however, I found some spring-loaded replacement clip-on sunglasses that fit well enough. I wore those for quite awhile until I lost them – so, back to the hut for more.
I found the ones I needed – and perhaps the dorkist looking case – and went up to the counter. The transaction proceeded normally and I handed the clerk my card. She flipped over the card, glanced at the signature, and asked me for my middle initial.
And my brain shut down.
My initials are also my log-in at work. I’ve been here long enough I got a simple ID with no numbers – I was the first. And I type that set of initials over and over again throughout the day as I log into different applications. To the point where I don’t think about the individual letters – it’s just one entity.
If given some thought, I can separate out these out again, but I didn’t think. I just blurted out the first letter – “A” – which is clearly not my middle initial.
So, then she had to ask me for my ID – smugly. I handed it to her and with some petulance in my voice I told her that no one ever asks me that – and told her it was “W” once my brain started working again. She said she was just checking on me.
Really.
Because the first thing I would do if I stole a credit card would be to buy 12 dollar clip on sunglasses and a 2 dollar case. I’d skip the Oakleys for sure.
Thanks for locking up my brain and embarrassing me.
We finished the transaction and she mumbled something about a lifetime warranty.
I was so cross I didn’t even wear them out of the store into the bright sunshine. The dark cloud over my head was enough to block the light.