Soda, blondes and hugs

My wife works at university gym. She has a Bachelors and Masters degree in Exercise Science. I think she has a minor in nutrition. I turn to her for advice when it come to injuries on my fantasy sports teams. (She told me to avoid Tom Brady the season after his ACL injury and not to worry about Albert Pujols the one season people were worried about whatever injury he had regarding his elbow.) She's run a half-marathon and mentioned today she's thinking about doing another one. She's much like Fergie (the singer, not the British Duchess of York) in that she's constantly 'working on her fitness.'

So when she told me this morning that I should go to the grocery store to take advantage (again) of their Buy 2, Get 3 Free offer on 12-packs of a particular carbonated cola. This is good news for me because, as you might have guessed from the first paragraph, my wife doesn't drink a lot these types of beverages. As you might also guess, my 17-month old son also does not drink any of these types of beverages, meaning of the 60 cans of cola, I'll likely consume about 45-50 of them over the next few weeks.

So I made the short trek to the store to grab up a my carbonated sugar water and make it out of there. I found a short line with a reasonably attractive blonde in front of me who was just about done with the check out process. (To be clear, I don't ALWAYS choose which line to stand in based on the attractiveness of the people I'd be standing behind . . . sometimes my wife's with me.) Just as she (the blonde, not my wife) finished paying and I started to move up, she stopped me. Thinking it would be odd for a woman I just met to stop me after seeing me for mere moments was flattering. I mean, I'm happily married, but come one, a little attention never hurt anyone's ego.

But alas, she wasn't concerned with me. She wanted to give the cashier a hug and wish her a happy Easter.Yes, you read that right. She wanted to walk around the counter and give her cashier a hug. I generally try to be polite to people serving me. I never 'order' food at a restaurant, but always ask 'can I have ?' I make sure to say thank you each time my glass is refilled. I'm more than happy to make small talk with the UPS guy when he stops by my apartment for the third time in two weeks with another shirt that my mom ordered for my kid. But not once have I ever had the desire to hug my cashier or my waitress. (Ok, you're right, there were some times I wanted to hug my waitress, but only the hot ones, not the older ones.)

As the blonde was leaving, she told me two things. First, she said 'You don't have to hug her, that's not part of the check out process.' Then she said 'She is the sweetest woman in the world.' I couldn't help but wonder two things. First, can I get a hug too? Second, that's a really good cashier to garner that kind of devotion for someone you may see once a week.

When I did get to finally check out, I did find Margarete to be incredibly sweet. She asked why I was buying so much soda, encouraged me to have a happy Easter and smiled the whole time. I, in turn, wished her a great weekend. But alas, I did not hug her. Maybe next time.