Our sports writer was at the counter ordering his hot dog and our editor, his chicken bake and soda. I was still standing nearby in line waiting for the next cashier to take my order.
My editor turns around and says, “You wanted an ice cream bar, right?” I respond “yes,” but then quickly tell him that I can pay for it because I realize that the reason he is asking me is because he is about to pay for my post-lunch dessert.
I continue to wait. The man waiting in line behind me mutters something and I realize that he is talking to me.
“Excuse me?” I ask.
“That was nice of you to not let him pay,” he says.
I just smile because I did not know how to respond to his comment. I was thinking: “How is not letting my boss pay for my chocolate-covered ice cream bar with almonds, being nice? He is the nice one for even offering.”
Then the light bulb went on in my head. This man thinks my 35-year-old editor is my boyfriend and that I am being a good girlfriend by paying for my own food! I am 23.
I walk out of Costco with my ice cream bar that is twice the size of a Haagen-Dazs one but just as delicious. The way I am devouring it, now I probably look like I am 12, and that my editor could be my father.