The Chronicles of Park Slope Olds
Yesterday, since I was feeling well enough to leave the house, I went to a patisserie to gorge myself on some fruit pastry.
As I paid at the counter while waiting for the clerk to box up my purchase, two old ladies enter the store. And when I say “old”, I mean that the first election they probably voted in was electing Gaius Julius Caesar as consul. Let’s call them “Mabel” and “Edna.”
Please note that I have credit card in hand, and I’m wearing red and black. The shop clerks are wearing all white and one is standing right next to me.
***
MABEL (to me at the counter): Excuse me, but do you carry any Italian bread here?
ME: Sorry, ma’am, but I don’t work here.
MABEL giggles embarrassedly, and I turn back to the counter.
EDNA (to me): EXCUSE me…she asked you a question!
MABEL (to Edna): Hush, Edna, I made a mistake. She doesn’t work here!
EDNA: Well, she looks like it, but who knows the difference these days. Let’s go.
