For years I threatened to start a blog about my misadventures in retail at the chocolate shop. I had the name picked out "The Bitter(sweet) Chocolatier" (as the naming of the blog is often more interesting than the contents of it), but was just too lazy to actually start it. My main goal was to write about all the jerks and idiots who darkened my door, getting the last laugh as I exposed their stupidity and/or jerkitude to the whole world. I figured the majority of my clientele didn't read blogs and those who stumbled upon an entry would read it and be too out of touch to realize that they were the jerk/idiots about whom I was writing.
As fate would have it, for the first time since I've had this blog up and running, an opportunity to blog about an in-shop experience manifested itself and of course, instead of me writing about how I'm serving the jerk/idiot their just desserts (I know--bad pun), I'm writing about I got served.
Yesterday a teeny, tiny little grandmother (think garden gnome without the beard) came in with her granddaughter. At first glance, I would have guessed the granddaughter was 5, but then I remembered that school had gone back and unless the garden gnome was flaunting her truancy, that would have aged her around 4.
Grandma starts to tell me how much she enjoys watching me on tv, referring to my recipe spots on our local Fox 8. At this point, the 4 year old looked solidly at me and assessed the psuedo celebrity in front of her. She wrinkled her even tinier garden gnome nose, tilted her head and all the time while keeping her eyes on me, said in a condescending manner (a manner typically reserved for use in comments from Mary Margaret, my best friend), "SHE'S on tv??".
There it is. My ego was handed to me by a 4 year old. She came. She saw. She assessed. She conquered. In three words. I'm glad I had lipstick on. Imagine the damage to my psyche she could have wrought otherwise.
Maybe I need to call that truant officer just in case.