In Which Toast Can Be Found In My Pants

The title is not a lie. Nor is it an exaggeration. This is seriously what happened to me this morning.

I decided to go see my financial advisor, Dood Theodore, at the bank this morning, to figure out some problems I had been having with my account and to set up auto-payment of my credit card to my checking account. But I was hungry, and I wouldn't have time to pick up something on the way - plus, I don't like spending money if I can get something just as good for free at home - so I made a couple of pieces of toast to eat on the way. I devoured one on the way to the bank, but when I pulled into the parking lot, I still had a slice left. No biggie, I figured, I'd eat it later. But I didn't want to let it get cold in the car...so I brought it with me.

As I walked into the bank, I was kind of palming the toast, so that the bank people wouldn't see it. I imagine they take a dim view to those who bring food into the lobby. I fully expected Dood to be busy and to be able to see me later - this is usually what happens when I come to see him, the receptionist tells me "Mr. Theodore will be available in just a minute," so I thought I would go outside and eat it while I waited. Unusually, though, the receptionist greeted me with a smile and said "Mr. Theodore is available now. I'll get him."

I was stuck. I couldn't very well leave if Dood was on his way, and I wasn't about to walk into his office - a serious office, computers and file cabinets and all the trappings - with a slice of toast in my hand. I had to find a way to get rid of this toast. For what couldn't have been more than a second or two, but what felt like a frozen eternity, my mind was wracked with anguish. I couldn't shove the whole thing down my throat, unless I wanted to speak to Dood with a mouth full of toast, and that wasn't happening. There were no trash cans in sight, and besides, I still wanted to eat that toast. The toast seemed to mock me with a keening croon, its sonorous medley promising naught but ruin. It appeared to me as a lode-stone, an object unable to be gotten rid of, one that would surely bring me to disaster. Maybe it was because I was still half-asleep, but this toast at the moment seemed like it was sure to bring me financial self-destruction and complete catastrophe. I never loathed an inanimate object in my life like I loathed this piece of toast at that very second. (Well, except for that chair leg I nearly broke my toe on once. Ooh, I hated that chair.)

Dood was approaching. I was still half-hidden by the large receptionist's desk, but I panicked. Any second now, he would smile and extend his hand, and that would be it. I was out of options. And then, a flash of inspiration. I had a natural hiding place the whole time. Quickly, I stuffed the toast into my left pocket and brushed the crumbs from my hand, emerging from behind the desk to return Dood's warm smile and hearty handshake. He brought me into his office, and I began to discuss the business that had brought me there that morning, but all I could think was "There's toast in my pocket! Why did I do that? Couldn't I have found a better way of solving this problem?"

It nagged at me. The most annoying part of the whole debacle was that there was no visible clock in Dood's office, and yet I had no way to check the time - my cell phone, which I use as a timepiece, was in the pocket that the toast was in, and I couldn't bring out the phone without spilling crumbs everywhere, and I couldn't do that in Dood's nice clean office. Maybe, when next we speak, I'll tell him about this. He'll probably laugh about it. He has a good sense of humor, he does.

And, surprisingly, when I spoke of buying a lottery ticket, he said that he had bought one too. "I know it's all luck-based," he told me, "but I've found that the harder you work, the more lucky you are. Besides, it's fun." He shrugged. "If you don't see me here on Monday morning, you'll know why." (Oh, and Dan, he said he would take the lump sum as well. So bite me.) Later, I found this whole scenario amusing, and let me tell you that it was hell keeping a straight face every time my mind wandered to the toast in my pocket. But it had stayed relatively intact, and after I left the bank, I still ate it. Why not? I had to empty my pocket and turn it inside out to get the crumbs out, but I'm not wasting a perfectly good piece of toast just because it's been in my pocket.

Work was kind of boring. Daniel showed up, and that was sort of interesting. We had an amusing incident...An attractive girl walked in and picked up off the shelf a copy of Super Mario Galaxy, or as I've grown to call it, Ur Mr Gay (inside joke). Daniel pointed out her attractiveness and suggested that I be the one to check her out. I tried to call her over - in my defense, I was trying to keep the customers cycling nicely through the store, and she was relatively near the register - but she would not heed my calls. This led to the following exchange:

Daniel: "She's not paying attention to you."
Me: "I know."
Daniel: "Maybe she thinks you're ugly, or not worth her time?" [or words to this effect]
Me: "Well, I am just the stooge behind the counter. At this point, I'm officially classified in her mind as furniture."

Well, he thought it was funny.

The next three days promise to be drudgery. 10:00-6:30 tomorrow, 10:45-7:00 the next day, and 11:30-close on Monday, which is also Christmas friggin' Eve. I had to close on Christmas Eve. I complained to my boss, but he rightly pointed out that I would have three other people helping me, and that even at the store's worst there was no way I would get out after 7:00.

Oh, and one more thing. Yesterday morning, we were going to have a big shipment of Nintendo Wiis in, 24 of them. This is the biggest shipment we've ever had, and we had been hyping it up to the customers for over a week, the result being that there were people waiting for several hours previous to our shipping time to get in line for a console. One ambitious fellow was in the store as soon as it opened. I hope you'll forgive me, if you're reading this (I gave him a link to my blog), but you never told me how to spell your name. He said it was pronounced "Che," but "with two I's." I do not know how to spell that. Perhaps "Chii"? Sorry. If you comment and leave your real name, I'll mention it on Monday's post.

But he was a real fun guy. We spoke on a variety of subjects, from amusing things we had seen on the Internet to horrible things we had seen on the Internet, to stories both of us had written. He got a Wii, and ended up leaving about the same time I did, around 1:00. Lots of fun to be around. He made the morning pass by quickly. If you're reading this, man, comment on it.

That's all I've got. On Monday, I'll tell you the horror of my last three days of work (and tell the story of last year's Christmas Eve working, the nightmare that it was). As for the Luke-Approved YouTube Link of the Day, it's got to be the one my father recommended to me, which is http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IK90Ys2LhSo also known as Wizards of Winter. Some people expended the incredible amount of time and effort required to sync up their Christmas lights with music, and, well, this is the result. Entertaining.

REPLIES.

Mom: 10% sounds about right. If I win $20 million in the lottery, I can donate $2 million. That allows for plenty of investment moneys and spending cash. And yes, my dear old Mom will get some money as well.

Steve: I really didn't expect anything different from you. I'll ignore the first part of your plan, but I'm right alongside all the other parts.

Vic: If I win, we'll have a nice long talk about what to do with it. (Perhaps I'll say that I'll give $2 million combined to you and charity, and it's up to you to decide what percentage goes where?) And I suppose Huckabee is the least controversial of the Republican candidates, plus, he has a wonky name. I'd vote for him.

Later.