411 is written on my forehead

Apparently I am a very approachable person. I am the one at the grocery store who people will talk to. These are random people, not people I have ever met before. I guess I actually smile, or look people in the eye, so they think I am a nice person. But in my head I am going “don’t talk to me, please!”

I was most outgoing for superlatives my senior year of high school. This is all an act. I am really a shy person, who forces herself to talk to people, and act nice. Or loud or weird. That is how I get through a lot of situations. Just act like you really don’t care, and people think I am so outgoing!

I sing and dance in the aisels of our neighborhood grocery, sometimes just because I am there everyday, and it’s like an extension of my safe zone so I forget other people are there, and sometimes to embarrass my husband or step-son, and sometimes because I really don’t care. I have heard people snicker at me when I am singing along with the elevator music in the store.

My husband says no matter where we go I always know someone. We can’t really go out without me saying hi to people. I meet a bunch of people through work. I can’t help but remember their names, and personal things, like “is their cat okay from when I saw them at the vets?” or ”how did they like that stew recipe in the paper?” Sometimes I can’t remember anything but that I know them, and to ignore them is rude, so I say hi and it comes to me either while I’m talking to them, or right after, why I know that person. So between all the strangers I meet in stores, and people we bump in to at stores, I am amazed we get any shopping done at all!

People think I know where things are a lot in stores. I don’t dress like I work there, but I get questions like, “where is the bathroom?” “do you know what aisle marshmallows are on?” or “where is the sale rack?” Do I look like a Target person? Why would a lady with a purse on her shoulder and no vest know where anything was in a store? Plus I will have a buggy, and a husband with me! When I shop I look for actual people who work there, and usually ask them first “Do you work here?” Just in case they have a fetish for colored vests.

So I must subliminally have 411 on my head, and it disappears when I look in a mirror. And I really don’t shop that much, so I’m not a regular anywhere, except at the grocery, where I do know many of the first names of the people that work there.

So if you need help at a store, just look for that crazy nice lady. I’m the one singing or humming or whistling uncontrollably. I look approachable, so it’s probably safe to ask me a question. And the scary thing is I will help you find those marshmallows.  

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