It is ok though, because I have developed a very mature, sneaky shopper strategy. The strategy: I hide any embarrassing items in the bottom of my shopping cart under a 10 roll pack of paper towel. Then, I do a speedy shuffle to the u-scan, throw the offending item into a plastic bag, and quickly cover it with a loaf of bread.
Now, I would like to share a story I call:
1) During this time in his life, he was a disorganized teenage boy.
2) Clive was also a high school freshman and was completely freaking out about his first ever high school baseball game.
Feeling guilty that she would be missing my brother’s big league debut, my mom made me promise to go to Clive’s baseball game so that he would have a fan in attendance. She also assumed he would forget some type of gear that he would need for the game, so she requested that I help him pack his uniform the night before the event.
The week watching Clive proceeded smoothly. The morning of the game, I dropped him off at school, wished him good luck, and told him I would be cheering in the bleachers that afternoon.
At 2:30 pm, I received a call from an unknown number. I didn’t answer. I received a voicemail.
Voicemail from Clive: (In a yelling-whisper voice) “It’s me! I’m calling from school, I’m going to call back in 3 minutes, please answer!”
I quickly went through a mental checklist in my head. Baseball hat, jersey, belt, pants, socks, shoes, baseball glove. Check, check, and check! I had asked him 50 times to make sure he had all of these things. What could he have forgotten?
Three minutes later I answered my phone.
Clive: (To help you imagine the sound of Clive’s voice, envision someone making a 911 call while hiding in the closet of a house infested with burglars.) “I’m using the secretary’s phone, she says I can only talk for 2 minutes!”
Me: “What’s up?”
Clive: “I forgot my cup and jock strap.”
Clive: “Coach says we need to have protection or we will not be able to play in the game.”
Clive: “He’s going to check to make sure we have ‘em!”
Me: (What? He’s going to CHECK? What the heck does this mean?) Silence.
Clive: “Please! I’ve been waiting my whole life to play baseball in high school.” (Dramatic much?)
Me: “Where would these things be?”
Clive: “I don’t know, the store I guess? I’ve never used one.”
Me: “ARE YOU FRICKIN’ KIDDING ME!?”
Clive: “PLEEAASSEEEE! I’m begging you! The secretary says I have to hang up now.”
Me: “Seriously? DANG IT CLIVE! Meet me in the school bus loop at 3:30, you owe me big time!”
Remember the really cute boys from high school who played every single sport and were basically so cool and gorgeous that upon seeing them the only thing you could do was run in the opposite direction? (Isn’t this how everyone reacts to cute boys?) After graduation, these guys all got part-time jobs at The Trophy House. Since graduating from high school, my life goal had been to avoid The Trophy House.
Now, one of these cool, gorgeous, COLLEGE jocks would have to ring up 21 year old me when I purchased my protective gear.
When I entered the store, I avoided eye contact with the store employees and made a beeline towards the soccer equipment. Having never purchased a cup or jockstrap before, I naturally assumed this is where these things would be located.
I found them! Wait…wrong, just shin guards.
The Trophy House Employees
“Hey man, isn’t that Clive’s sister?”
“No man, I don’t think so.”
“Wrong man, I think that’s Clive’s sister for sure.”
“Wrong bro! Let’s go ask.”
Oh Jesus! Please no.
Around the corner comes 6 ‘8” Anthony and 6’ 5” Devon, the local college basketball stars, and my brother’s YMCA volunteer basketball coaches.
Anthony: “You are Clive’s sister, right?”
Anthony: (Facing Devon) “Told you man, I could tell because she looks like Clive!”* (Back to me) “We coach Clive’s basketball team.”
Anthony: “What brings you into The Trophy House today? You need new shin guards?”
Me: “Umm…no…umm…I’m looking for a jockstrap…there is a baseball game tonight…umm...the coach is going to check…IT’S FOR CLIVE!”
Anthony: “Oh yeah, you gotta keep Clive safe, follow us!”
I thought that being led by Anthony and Devon to the jockstrap and cup section of The Trophy House was going to be the most embarrassing thing to happen to me all day. Then, after fanning his hand across the jockstrap section like Vanna White, Devon asked, “What size do you need?”
Oh my God! There are sizes involved!?
I muttered that I had no idea what size Clive needed.
Anthony surveyed the jockstrap selection, placed his hand on his chin, furrowed his eyebrows and after several moments of deep concentration, picked two items off the shelf.
“These will work for Clive!”
At the end of the day, I had purchased a jockstrap and a cup at The Trophy House in exchange for a pack of licorice and a homemade grilled cheese sandwich.
The good news is, Clive apparently passed the coach's jockstrap/cup inspection, because he made his high school baseball debut that night.
To this day, this is my most embarrassing shopping experience EVER!
*For the record, I look absolutely nothing like Clive.