Apparently, I look helpful...

Since Christmas is a scant nine days away, I figured I should probably get on that shit and start my shopping. I ended up making an unusually healthy dent in my list and I only have four more gifts to get, three of which I know what I'm getting and it's just a case of finding it. It was a very productive day, but there was a downside: I've found my gift of people needing to tell me their life story has mutated. Now I'm the person everyone asks for help when there are no salespeople around.

It started harmlessly enough. I was in Christmas Tree Shop (yes, I do just love a bargain) when a little old lady who looked like Happy Gilmore's grandmother asked me to get her something off the top shelf. No problem, Merry Christmas. Then, her friend wanted one of the same thing. OK, happy to help. Wait, Ethel may need one. Sure. Then some guy came up to me, looking very annoyed at the world. "Do you work here?" he asked. Now, at the time I was wearing what I consider to be my winter uniform: workboots, jeans and a sweatshirt. Last time I check, that wasn't what you should wear to work there (I think a vest in involved). He then asked me where they kept the coffee tables. Of course, as someone who DOESN'T WORK THERE I'm perfectly qualified to answer him.

I then went to Modell's where, truth be told, I was shopping for myself (that always happens at Christmas time). I was searching for just the right Notre Dame hat when a woman asked me if I knew who Brian Westbrook was. I don't know the man personally, but I know of him. She didn't seem to appreciate my attempt at humor. "Where is his jersey?" I don't know, I don't work at Modell's. "Oh, do you know Deron Williams?" Again, I know of him. "Where is his jersey?" Once again, I don't know, and I don't see one. "What about..." This went of for five more minutes (sidebar: the balls of her kid to ask for like 15 jerseys. I never pressed my luck past 3. Those are expensive.). Eventually, I just had to get out before she started asking me to come with her to other stores and I fled in a hurry, not even getting myself a new hat (well, not at Modell's, anyway).

The rest of my day, I was the designated "tallest guy in the row". I wish I was exaggerating, but at three more stores I was asked to get something off the top shelf, once with a sales guy, with a friggin step stool in his hand, standing next to me. That girl was extremely hot though, so I wasn't about to complain. I guess the moral of this story is that I should have extended my career in retail; apparently I'm a natural.