. . . and that's all I really accomplished, so it's what I'm going to write about.
See if you can tell me what's strange about this conversation when I was ringing up my two pairs of thongs. I still call them thongs sometimes . . .
Cashier: You find everything okay, brau?
Cashier: Okay, cash or credit?
Ken: Credit (hands him his card)
Cashier: Your name, bro?
Ken: Dr. Kenneth Noisewater
Cashier: And address, bro?
Ken: 6969 W. Riveredge Road.
Cashier: And phone number, brau?
Cashier: Okay, just sign right here, bro.
Ken: There you go
Cahier: Okay, need a bag?
Cahier: Okay, have a good one, bro.
And if you said the funny thing about this exchange, besides the goofy address and phone number and how much information he requested, was that he called me bro 4 times and brau 2 times, you win! He dealt me a full house, bro's over brau's, plus an extra bro for good measure!
Now, did he think that it was okay to call me that because I'm youngish looking, had on a Motley Crue shirt and my hair was still messy from coming home from my lady-friend's? Or does his company, which sounds a little like Bird of Prey from the United States (good selection of thongs!) trains him to call people brau and the like?
Here's another question, which term do you hate being called the most:
Ma'am (Makes women feel old)
Sugar (This one is okay if it's used by a waitress with an old fashioned bea hive hairdo)
Any others you would like to add?