Sweaty McSweaty

Jacob and I stopped at Office Max the other day and ended up doing some impulse buying. Really, who could pass up a notebook for a penny? Jacob chose five of the ultra-reasonably-priced notebooks and I found a spiral-bound planner that I needed. We proceeded to the checkout and set our six items in a tidy stack on the counter. Both Jacob and I immediately noticed that the cashier was perspiring profusely. Beads of sweat were rolling off the man's face and onto our merchandise. Ew. The cashier began scanning the top notebook and asked, "Do you have six of these?" Before I could answer, he repeatedly passed the hand-held scanner over the bar code of the top notebook. More perspiration trickled onto our purchases. Ew.

Cashier: "You know, you can only buy three of these notebooks at the one-cent price."
Me: "Ok, just leave three on this order and he (gesturing at Jacob) will buy the other two. And, by the way, this bottom one is not a penny notebook, it is a planner." (I pulled out the more expensive planner and placed it aside. The sweaty man looked confused.)
Cashier: "Uh . . ." (He ran the price scanner six times over the top notebook. The register read three notebooks at one cent and three notebooks at eighty-nine cents. I should have let it go at that, as eighty-nine cents would have been a sweet deal for the planner. More sweat drizzled onto our stuff.)
Me: "Could you, um, please take the last three items off of here. First of all, this one is a planner. It costs more. And, he (pointing at Jacob once again) will pay for the last two notebooks." (I wiped some moisture off the top notebook. Ew.)
Cashier: "Uh . . ." (He removed the bottom three items off of the bill and dripped some more.)
Me: "Now, you can put this planner on this first bill. Just leave those two notebooks off." (I separated everything to make it easier for him. He scanned and secreted more sweat.)

I paid for the first order and gave Jacob two cents for the other two notebooks. The cashier scanned and dribbled continuously onto our last two items. He then handed all of our receipts to me and mumbled vacantly, "Thank you, sir." I let out a mock scoff and he quickly corrected himself, "Uh, ma'am."

Jacob, who politely waited until we were outside to comment about the perspiring cashier, said, "Wow, that guy was really sweaty. Super sweaty. Sweaty McSweaty." Now, I could understand a hormonal woman perspiring like that, but a 30-something man? The poor guy was not having a good day.

We wiped off our damp purchases and drove home.