1, 2, 3, egg!

In photography by webmeister Bud

Ever wake up one morning to find your fridge door open, and all your eggs hanging out on the counter?

20050802 - 1, 2, 3, egg

“Eef ah were a bay-gull, whir would ah be?”

More on that in a moment.

The question I’m about to ask, and the undoubtedly elusive answer, have nothing to do with the photo above (okay, there’s one weak tie-in, but it’s a total stretch), but I can no longer continue to ponder it without asking for input:

Does it LOOK like I work here?

I can’t figure it out. I just can’t. For most of my adult life, not a month has gone by where I’ve been wandering the aisles of  any given retail establishment, like any other shopper, when a complete stranger has approached me and asked a question such as:

– What are the benefits of having two phones on one plan?
– Which section are atlases in?
– Is this clumping litter?
– Where are the digital camcorders?
– Where would I find that end table on page two of your flyer?
– Will these go on sale any time soon?
– How much memory does this hold?
– Where are the washrooms?

Surprisingly, I have found myself able to answer a good number of these questions but, really, that’s not the point.

I don’t think, in my entire life, I’ve ever mistaken another shopper for a store employee. If in doubt, my first question would likely be, “Do you work here?”

For some reason, however, I seem to exude the “employee pheromone,” and it’s not even up for debate that I would know which tissue is softer.

Sure, it’s an honest mistake anyone can make, therefore I’m not so much surprised that it happens, but how often it happens.

And every time it happens, I ask myself, does it LOOK like I work here?

Some have said that yes, it does look like that. I’m not a jeans-and-t-shirt-in-public kinda guy, but I don’t think I dress any more formally than the average geek, and there are most always people wandering around these places in, like, full suits. Why aren’t they asked where to find this week’s rebate coupons?

This has happened to me in electronics stores, hardware stores, department stores, sporting goods stores (there’s a good one), and most recently . . . wait for it . . . Thrifty Foods (psst: weak tie-in).

I’m in LINE, for gack’s sake. I’ve just put down a basket FULL of groceries. I’m standing STILL in this line, with people in front of me. CLEARLY, I’m at the end of the line, when I vaguely hear the words “bay-gull,” “whir,” and “ah be,” from behind me.

Naturally, as I don’t speak gibble, I presumed this to be part of the natural chatter of any grocery store.

But then, the statement was repeated, most definitely drawled in my direction, and much louder than necessary.

“Eef ah were a bay-gull, whir would ah be?”

I’m sure my mouth must’ve been open for more than two seconds as I surveyed this burly older man with a basket not unlike mine and an expectant look on his face.

“Um . . . a bagel?” I point behind me. “Go left at produce, just down there.”

The sound he produced as he shuffled off resembled: “Thunks.”

Again, looking around for the hidden camera, I ask you, does it LOOK like I work here?