Last Friday I was at D'Agostino's (are there supposed to be two apostrophes in it? freaking apostrophes) looking for cooking wine. I had already gone to Westside Market, stroller in tow, and hadn't been able to find it there. I dragged the stroller and my 100 lbs of groceries all around D'AGs, and still could not find the effing cooking wine. I was about to give up when I saw a D'AG guy unloading chicken and thought, "Should I just go buy real wine? Or should I ask him? There's no harm in asking him right?" RIGHT.
Me: "Excuse me, do you know where I can find cooking wine?"
Him (smiling): "What?"
Me: "Cooking wine."
Him: "What?"
Me: "Cooking wine? Cook-ing wi-ine."
Him (looking apologetic): "Sorry (touching his ear). I am hearing impaired. Can you say it again?"
At this point, I want to kick myself. Really, did I just pick the only hearing impaired employee to ask a question? And it's not like I can just walk away with a "Oh sorry but your deafness is not convenient for me."
Me: "COOK-ING WI-IINE?"
Him: "Chicken white?"
Me: OMFG. Just tell me to go away or ask someone else. "No, cooking wine? Like, white wine? Sherry wine? Marsala wine?"
Him: "Chicken fried?"
Me: Oh dear God in Heaven, please let the ceiling fall upon my head so that this conversation can end. "No...cooking wine. Cooooking wiiine. Cooooooooooking wiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine."
Him: "Sorry..."
I went back today for something else and guess what--freaking bottles and bottles of cooking wine was like 2 feet away from where I was standing with the chicken guy.
No comments:
Post a Comment