The man behind the check-out counter at Whole Foods told me my braided hairstyle made me look like Padmé.
Me: I’m sorry?
Check-out Man: Padmé. She’s a character in Star Wars.
Hm. Right. Not exactly what I was expecting. Also, who the F is Padmé? Couldn’t he at least stick with a conventional Princess Leia reference? I felt the mood of the crowd of people in line behind me switch from mild annoyance to slight bemusement. A-holes.
I forced polite yet uncomfortable laughter, unsure as to how I should proceed.
Silence. Brief ponderance of etiquette slash social norms. Briefer ponderance of movie dialogue used when portraying similar situations.
Nothing. It was time to call on a staple.
Me: Well, I shall take that as a compliment.
I thought this signaled an end. It always signals an end. But no. There was more he wanted me to know.
I could see the nerdish excitement bubbling up from somewhere. Somewhere it had been lurking for years, deep-seated on a fraying couch.
No. Please. Please don’t. Please just ring up my 3 coconut waters, two packages of Tofurky and single vegan chocolate chip cookie, so I can exit this mocking semi-circle of lunchtime shoppers.
Oh, but he did.
He launched into an exultant spiel. My listening lasted approximately 5 words.
Check-out Man: She was the wife of mumbojumboblahblahexpositorydetailneedlessinformationwaytoomucheverythingpleasemakeitstopimsoembarrassedrightnow.
When his oration finally came to a halt, I gathered my groceries along with the remaining scraps of my dignity and beelined it back to the office to Google search my new apparent identity.
Great. I’m a glorified mistress.
At least she’s pretty?