Okay, lots going on in my world and I’ll post about that soon, but I had to share this little highlight with you all.
Last Wednesday night I had a guy come in with a winning lottery ticket. He usually comes in and buys his tickets from me and looks like he walked straight out of Central Casting for the role of “best friend’s dad.” He had the plaid shirt, pull-over vest, khaki pants and deck shoes. Kinda balding and about 20lbs overweight. Your average 50 some year old guy.
So, he comes in and hands me a lottery ticket and the exchange goes something like this…
Me: Did you get a winner?
Him: (very excited and a little silly) Yep…I have a wiener!
Me: (looking at him a little oddly) Do you know how much you won?
Him: (completely oblivious) Nope. I know it’s not a big wiener, but it’s mine.
I looked at him and then it dawned on him what it was that he said. He started yammering and this lovely color of red started creeping out of his collar and slowly crawling up his face.
He then apologized to me and tried to explain that he would joke with his kids since they were little saying wiener instead of winner and that he meant nothing by the comment. I just smiled and assured him that it was okay…keeping my laughter in check. I handed over the “wienings” and he quickly left the store.
Now, this was bad enough if it was just he and I in the store, but it wasn’t. There were at least three other people around to hear his proud declaration. One of them was a regular customer who has the same twisted sense of humor that I do. The minute we made eye contact, both of us busted up laughing.
My regular customer then adds:
When he said “I know it’s not a big wiener, but it’s mine.” It was all I could do to not tap him on the shoulder and tell him “ I bet your wife is a proud woman.”
I haven’t seen wiener man since, but his prophetic words still stick with me…I’ve. Got. A. Wiener.