Who Dey Think Gonna Ask Them Prices?

Originally, I planned on writing a happy, joyous account of quirky Christmas traditions around the world. However, lately I've realized there are some rather annoying American Christmas traditions that must be addressed (which is more entertaining, anyway.)

I may have previously mentioned one or two things that annoy me about shopping. And you would think I was done. But no! It has been brought to my attention (Thanks, Carrie!) that clerks at a sports apparel store in Northern Kentucky have been *gasp* rude and unhelpful.

I know, I know—you're shocked. But I have corroborated my source's story, and I tell you it's true. An innocent shopper was trying to find an AFC North Champions item of apparel for a family member. She went to a store with a multitude of AFC North Champs apparel choices .... none of which were labeled with a price. Obviously, seeing as how the Bengals' status as AFC North Champs just became official last weekend, these items are brand spankin' new. How was she to know the price?

She went to the clerks to enquire, and they were seriously annoyed at having to talk to a customer about a price during work hours. Seriously, wasn't it enough that they stood there for eight hours, occasionally scanning in merchandise and swiping credit cards? Just yesterday, someone made them use the pole thing to get a sweatshirt from the 10-foot high row of hooks. God, the pressure! So much being asked of them!

So yes, point of the story: add items without prices and self-absorbed nitwit clerks to the list of shopping annoyances.

For me personally, we've been getting a lot of Christmas cards in the past week. Which is nice--spreading Christmas cheer is wonderful. Except, when they are addressed to "Mr. and Mrs. Keith", this does not make me cheerful. It makes me angry and twitchy. It gives me the uncontrollable urge to break something or drink a bottle of wine to take the edge off the burning inferno of rage.

This is not good for me. This is not something I would like to associate with Christmas. I am not merely Keith's chattel; I also have a name. My own name, which is just as easy to say as "Keith" but actually refers to me as an individual, instead of as my husband's property. So if you would like to send me a card or address me in any way, I would actually prefer it if you would address me.

I know I'm preaching to the choir, as it were, because if you know me well enough to be reading my blog, you know better than to make such an egregious error of judgment. But I still put it out there in case you may, perhaps, be visiting a mutual friend or family member who happens to be writing out holiday greetings.

Please, I beg of you, say something on the behalf of women everywhere and stop the madness. Spread the cheer. Write two names.

Ahem, now that you've finished your shopping and mailed your Christmas cards, have a Merry Christmas! (And if you haven't, Walgreens and Speedway welcome you with open arms.)