Or at the very least Daniel, who rang me up today, thinks I'm an alcoholic. Look Daniel, I'm running low on wine and it's nearly the weekend. I don't want to run out. And Lord knows I'm not braving this place late on a Friday or anytime on a Saturday. There is a lot of basketball to watch and what if I end up having company? You know I want to be a good hostess.
Besides, you only think you may have had me in your line before. I certainly don't recognize you. There coworkers of yours who know me by either my winter coat or my religious purchases of balela (which I'm totes sick of, by the way). A couple of them even know where I work out.
So when dear Daniel said something about me being an alcoholic I was all, "Well, how can I not be when it's so cheap?" Then I coughed and he said something about did I skip work because I was hung over. "No. I just didn't work today." I'd already had to tell people I was unemployed at the basketball game and I didn't want to add fuel to his theory that I was fired for being drunk on the job. Then he's all "I'm just jealous."
Also, I'm pretty sure he called me "honey" when I was leaving. Oh, Trader Joe's, I love you so much!