Dear Sweet Gentleman at the Library,

Thank you so much for offering to show me how to work the self-checkout machine. I wasn’t trying to snub you – I hope it doesn’t come off that way. The thing is, I actually get the technical aspects of how the self-checkout machine works: scan the barcode, you’re good to go. But since this is the first time I’ve ever been to the library myself, and since when I’ve been here with my husband, he checked out the old-fashioned way (with cute little librarians swiping his card for him), I have no idea what my PIN could possibly be and am generally sort of flummoxed.

And seeing as there’s a long line of people behind me (apparently Wednesday at 7:00 is prime library time?), all juggling huge stacks of books while trying to entertain bored-looking three-year-olds, I would rather stand to the side until there’s a lull during which I can ask the librarian WTF is up with the self-checkout BS?

But seriously, thanks for offering. It warmed the cockles of my heart.

XXOO

The Nearly-30-Year-Old College Grad Who Can’t Use the Library Without Assistance

*****

Dear Grocery Store Chain I Love to Shop At –

Please please please for the love of potato chips… Explain to your checkers and bag people exactly what those plastic squirty bottles of clear gel are and why they should USE THEM.

After the Great Coughpocalypse of 2010, my husband and I went to great lengths (and by “great lengths” I mean standing in long checkout lines when shorter ones were available) to avoid Hacky McPlegmerson whenever we bought our groceries. But that does us no good when the bag boy is alternately horking up a lung and putting his germy hands all over our yogurt and Steam Fresh corn.

I SEE the hand sanitizer. It’s RIGHT THERE. In PLAIN SIGHT. But maybe you need to point it out to your employees.

Just a thought.

Peace Out,

Thoroughly Grossed Out Customer Whose Bags May or May Not Still Be Sitting in the Car Until the Germs Have Had Time to Die. Or Colonize.

*****

Dear Potential Friend –

It was a pleasure to meet you the other night. We seemed to have plenty to talk about, right? No awkward silences. A few things in common. Lots of laughs. And ice cream!

But I just wanted to apologize…

Because, after consulting my fabulous readers – whose advice I adore and wholly believe – apparently it wasn’t kosher to let you know I Facebooked your husband before I met you.

(I totally googled both of you, too. But at least I didn’t let that slip.)

Let’s pretend I never said that.

BFFs Forever,

I’m Not Really Stalking You or Your Husband, I Promise

*****

Dear Cell Phone –

When I am out walking, and trying to avoid having to look at/speak to/acknowledge the weirdo maintenance guy by pretending to be totally wrapped up in an important phone conversation, please do not announce “PLEASE SPEAK A VOICE COMMAND” loudly enough for people to hear in freaking Alabama.

Not cool, cell phone. Not cool.

Your Friend,

That Weird Girl Who Goes to Ridiculous Lengths to Avoid Awkward Encounters

*****

Dear Checkout Girl at the Other Grocery We Sometimes Patronize,

I’m pretty sure you meant it as a compliment when you could smell my lotion from all the way across the conveyor belt. (Right?) But smelling strangers… and then letting them know you smelled them… That’s a little on the creepy side.

Just FYI.

P.S. The scent is Warm Vanilla Sugar, natch.

Sincerely,

The Customer Who Appreciates Your Religious Use of Hand Sanitizer