I was young and I meant well.
That's my defence for one of the more excruciating experiences of my life. I was in a supermarket queue, being served by a young man with apparent learning difficulties and boss-eyes - 'one eye looking at you, one eye looking for you', as my nan used to say.

Being young and well-meaning, I was extremely conscious of not treating this young man any differently because of his crossed eyes, slurred speech and occasional twitch. Indeed, I fairly brimmed with the over-riding need to appear friendly and approachable. So when the young man addressed me, I couldn't wait to reward him with a dazzling smile and immediate response.

'You busy today?' he asked as he scanned my goods. 'Oh no!' I said brightly, 'after this I'm going straight home to put on my dinner and sit in front of the telly!' He gave me a bit of a look through his thick glasses. I smiled sweetly. There was a pause. 'You busy today?' he asked again, this time more pointedly, his head shaking a bit. Poor lamb, I thought. 'No,' I said, more loudly and clearly, 'I'm going to cook my dinner and watch a bit of telly. Not much on tonight!' and I gave a short laugh to emphasise the general relaxed nature of the evening.

There was a longer pause, during which I thought I could detect a look of awkwardness on the young man's face. Nonetheless, I pressed on, buoyed by my goodness and generosity of spirit. "How about you?" I asked, meaningfully. "Are you busy today? You certainly look busy! Ha ha ha!' He didn't respond; he just looked in my direction, his head shaking slightly as he scanned another item of shopping,

'How's Tony?' he eventually asked, speaking rather loudly (almost desperately) for someone who was in such close proximity to me. Oh dear, I thought. They really shouldn't have put him on the till if he's not... all there. 'Oh, well, I don't know Tony', I replied slowly, still smiling, as if to a simple child. 'He's fine,' said the woman in the queue behind me, the woman this poor man had been trying to converse with for the past few minutes, the woman who was now forced, in the nicest possible way, to ignore and talk over me in order to bring a halt what I suddenly realised was an excruciating moment for all concerned.

They continued their conversation as I, head down and cheeks crimson, tried desperately to pack my bags in the most nonchalant way possible for someone who was burning with shame. The shame I feel now... Oh god, the shame...!!
(MrsP, Sun 19 Aug 2012, 15:22, 5 replies)

There's no need for shame
It's like when someone is talking on a mobile through an ear set . If I want to join in the conversation it's my bloody right.
(the other guy not the one that gave you coochie warts, Mon 20 Aug 2012, 1:43, closed)

I like this
*Click*
(bROKEN aRROW PUA HVI Master, Mon 20 Aug 2012, 13:02, closed)

Its funny isnt it
From the outset, I wouldnt say that was too bad.

Ive got similar stories, that when i recollect them to my friends, they dont seem too bad to them... to me though, they throw me into a spiral of hate and disgust for myself.
(Dan dan dan They tik urh jerbs!!!, Mon 20 Aug 2012, 14:48, closed)

j'ai aimé

(Sir Clitherington Smythe offers him yourself., Tue 21 Aug 2012, 10:38, closed)

they
really should be doing their fucking job and serving the customer in front of them instead of chatting to friends.
(little lord muthafuckin fauntleroy, Thu 23 Aug 2012, 10:39, closed)