Pour Some Sugar On Me

I am the worst hypoglycemniac (is that a word?) that I know of. If I go for too long without eating I will get the world’s worst headache that won’t go away. Just before the headache though, comes a period where I sort of enter “the quiet zone” and my personality flat lines. I can literally hear myself talking like a robot. It hit me last night as I was trying to finish my holiday pre-shopping scan of every item in every store. Unfortunately I had just entered a store and had just started my scan when I flat lined and an extremely perky salesman approached. I felt my force field go up immediately. That’s a barrier no salesperson can penetrate.

He wanted to know what I was looking for, in what size and what color. I let out a stream of monotone “I’m just looking” and with each non-emphasized word, he got more excited. It was a challenge; I had dropped the gauntlet and he was picking it up. Oh my word, couldn’t he tell I was running low on sugar and thus out of “sweetness”? I was a hungry sourpuss, a Grinch who was Christmas shopping. All of his excitement and sales-witchery bounced off my low glycemic brain like water off of a Rain-X’d windshield. I just didn’t have the time or energy to explain that I was pre-shopping scanning, or what that was, or why I MUST do it that way. I needed silence to ensure my scanning downloaded properly. Silence was not part of his game plan.

Salesman (SM): …but if you did know what you were looking for , what sizes would you need?

Me: (flatly) I have it written down on a list in the car.
SM: What are the favorite colors of the people you are shopping for?

Me: It depends on what it is.

SM: (Sensing that he was getting nowhere, he switched to his “How to deal with a difficult shopper” sales routine) Could you help me with something? I am not trying to sell you anything; I have some things picked out for myself and would like to get your opinion on them. (I zombied over to him) See these suits? I am trying to decide about tie and sock choices.

I looked and he had two gray suits laid out with three ties and three pair of socks. Each tie was nice and had a few spots of bright color . In the first, it was silver for the most part with a few little dots of lime green. The socks were bright lime green. The next was a tie, dark gray, with some bright blue spots in it. The socks were bright electric blue. The third was in the purple category. Somehow in the midst of all this, I hit the “I’m over it” stage and was really ready to just go home.

SM: I love these tie/sock combinations with these suits; my boss thinks I am crazy. What do you think?

Me: (Without taking a breath and looking him right in the eyes) I think your boss is really smart.

He stood there frozen and silent (I finally got silence). I heard a loud gasp to my right. I turned and to my right was the cashier. Her jaw had dropped to her chest while she took in lots of air really quickly. I looked back and the salesman and he said, “Ouch”.

I felt so bad. Where was my Southern hospitality? Where was my smoothing this over and not hurting his feelings? I know better; I was raised better. Apparently my sweetness is directly linked to my glycemic levels. I made a robotic effort to tell him that the ties matched the socks and looked good together but that I would have to wear them without the suit…..what? I realized how odd that sounded but as it seemed to give me an exit note, I took it.

SM: Now watch how I turn this around and sell you something.

Me: Watch the door.

I exited center stage. I knew it was time for me to go home. I knew I needed to eat something ; my batteries we just about dead. Did I go home? No. I remembered that I needed to get a kid’s gift and ran into Old Navy. While there, I decided to do my least favorite thing in the world…try on jeans.  Why? I have no answer for that other than I wasn’t thinking clearly at this point. I tried on every style in two sizes and none of them made me look the way I think I should look. I sat down my stack of reject jeans by the first stack of rejects and the tired dressing room attendant said,”So, did any of these work out for you?” She had no idea that she was dealing with a drone at this point who was suffering from IBS (irritable boy syndrome) . I was really hitting the point of no return and I answered, “No, none of them worked. They are all either irregular or I have a fat ___.”  (Sorry ladies, pardon my French) I’ll let you fill in the blank. Every now and then, when the blood sugar is low and the timing is right, I speak French. The dressing room attendant just looked at me and said, “We don’t carry irregulars.” Bazinga! It was time for me and my glutes to exit stage left.

 I am going to have to start stocking my car with Power Bars or something so that I can enjoy the Christmas spirit when I am in the midst of the hustle and bustle of it all. You know something is wrong when you are expecting peace and quiet in the middle of the holiday shopping frenzy. You also know something is wrong when you are not patient/kind with people who have to put up with the crazed crowd of deal hunting shoppers. Let’s face it, they are stuck in a big over scented/overstocked box, listening to the same songs over and over again…all day long. It’s holiday waterboarding for those poor sales people. I am going to have to go out and spread some cheer today to make up for last night. If you are looking for me, just follow the trail of Power Bar wrappers and you’ll find me.