Searching the Poinsettia display for the perfect enormous set at Costco yesterday, a man next to me was looking at a box of sanitizing wands trying to figure out how much they were. Taking a break from intensely evaluating each Poinsettia trying to find two perfect plants, I looked around with him and helped him find the sign with the price.
The fellow thanked me for helping him and then stood trying to figure out if it was a good price for a sanitizing wand. It was like watching an accident. You know you shouldn’t watch, but you can’t keep your eyes off it. I was staring, still trying to get past the silliness of the gadget when this fellow says:
This is a perfect gift for a pregnant woman. A pregnant woman would love this, right?
Standing next to my Poinsettias, I paused to consider what he’d just said and make sure I heard him right. Was he was still talking about the sanitizing wands? Devil is in the details you know!
A pregnant woman? Your wife?
No. My boss. My boss is pregnant.
I looked at him quizzically. While processing the magnitude of his response and trying to imagine how the whole gift giving event would go down (in flames of course), I tried not to laugh. I smiled instead. I felt so bad for him, he hadn’t a clue. I wish he had said it was for his wife… poor guy.
Yeah, no. Don’t buy your pregnant boss that. Go over to that aisle and buy her a spa gift certificate. That, she will really appreciate. Please, don’t buy your pregnant boss the sanitizing wands.
His eyes lit up wild with the idea and he thanked me. He returned the sanitizing wands back to the display, thanked me again and set off to search out the spa gift cards. I went back to searching for my perfect Poinsettias with a warm, fuzzy feeling that I saved this fellow from obliterating his career and quite possibly, saved his job.