I went to the Greenwood Safeway earlier today for cheap white wine, bananas, chili powder, cheddar cheese, and cat treats for a cat-who-has-never-done-anything-to-deserve-them.
I always love going to Safeway stores because the cashiers have an additional duty I was never required to do when I was a cashier: "Have a nice day, Mr. Smith." With skillful coordination and dedication to habit, my cashier quickly scans down the receipt before handing it to Mr. Smith to seek out his customer's last name: Mr. Smith. Waiting in line at Safeway, I often think back to my bumbling screwball comedy antics when I was a cashier in a clothing store: the time I set a woman's credit card on top of the de-magentizer; the time I accidentally switched on the storewide intercom while announcing to the cashier next to me "Isn't that guy over there cute?"; the time I dropped a vase on a telephone and ended up calling Tunisia; the time a short customer (now I call him "boyfriend") tried to flirt with me, and I cluelessly told him he was buying ugly ties. If I had to scan down the receipt (past the pricing lists, the tax and totals, the credit card information, the advertisements and coupon offers), I'd likely beam to my bemused customer, "Have a nice day, Mrs. Visa!"
I have to admire their skill to find the name. I don't, however, admire their skill to pronounce the name. Particularly since my last name has never been pronounced right.
Don't get me wrong: my last name is a real piece of work. It's not horrible, but just awkward enough to envoke sympathy, or jokes. My boyfriend has an odd last name too, but mostly because of the wealth of syllables. When saying it, his last name lingers just long enough on the tongue to be an unwelcome guest, while mine's more like the "special" cousin kept locked up in the basement. At Safeway, a hurried cashier usually knocks off a syllable or two for my boyfriend. For me, I've been called anything from "utopia" to a small South American country.
But today, after Mr. Smith gathered his bagged groceries and left, I was treated to the best (and most foreign) rendering of my last name ever. It is also how I'd like to be called for the rest of my days on this good Earth.
So, you may now call me Mr. Yo-yo.
And mean it.
Posted by James at October 7, 2007 12:37 PM