Oh, thank God…

I like my job because it allows me to be social in ways I’m normally not brave enough to be. I guess I feel safer chatting to strangers when I’m behind a counter and wielding a long serrated knife. There’s also a sort of intimacy that develops between two people who see each other on an almost daily basis, particularly when one knows the intricacies of the other’s breakfast and relishes the task of making it (or at least, appears to relish in order to score tips).

Today a man I had never met came in to order a sandwich. As I was taking his money I noticed his shirt advertised a tattoo parlor or something similar in South Dallas. Having lived in the Dallas area for almost a year, I was intrigued. I debated whether I wanted to ask him if he was from Dallas, and decided, what the heck, I’ll bite. I asked the man, “Are you from Dallas?”, nodding at his shirt. He told me he was actually from Ohio, and we had a discussion which mainly revolved around me explaining why I had lived in Texas, whether I preferred it to my home state, and the concrete of big city vs the greenery of small town. As he smiled at me and turned to walk away, wishing me a good day, I noticed his shirt actually said “South Dakota.”

I am an idiot.