Adventures in Awkward
Just Stop Smelling Me, Please
I've worked in customer service since forever, starting out like most everyone in the fast food biz before moving on to the somewhat more honourable profession of retail sales associate. Working with the public exposes you to a fair number of, erm, curiosities. People can be strange.
But sometimes the strange conversations take you by surprise, leaving you grasping for words. This is one of those times.
It started rather simply, innocently. An off-hand remark, an attempt at pleasantries as I scanned the barcodes of shirts and shorts.
"You smell nice."
"Uhm, thanks?" I'm terrible at responding to compliments, and even worse with ones that are awkward.
"Is that Gucci?"
"Excuse me?" She's at the Gap. The signs are everywhere. It says so on the tags. Even my shirt is from the Gap.
"Your cologne," she clarifies. "It's Gucci, right?"
I respond with a nervous chuckle. "I don't wear cologne. It makes me sick."
"Oh, well you smell like Gucci."
"Huh," I sigh. And then realization hits me. "I had a cinnamon raisin bagel for breakfast."
"Ah!" she exclaims. "That must be it. Gucci's new scent has a faint aroma of cinnamon."
Riiiiiight, whatever you say, lady. I'll take my eau de Tim Hortons breakfast over Gucci any day. A whole lot cheaper, that's fersuure.