Are you a leprechaun?

Before going into work last night, I popped into the TJ Maxx across the plaza for winter gloves. I hate this town -- we had three days of warm weather back in February and all the stores instantly got rid of all their winter apparel in favor of bathing suits and halter tops, even though March has been none too balmy and we historically get our biggest snowstorms in April. While I was there I also picked up another pair of slippers, because my boy ferrets are fond of stealing my old pair, but only ONE of them, so at any given time I can only find one slipper. Maddening. I'm hoping between four shoes I'll be able to maintain one full pair.

But that's neither here nor there. I was waiting to check out behind a woman who was bursting with pride over finding a pair of pumps that perfectly matched a skirt, which I suppose is quite amazing considering the likelihood of finding anything sold there that went together. I waited patiently while she and the cashier admired and exclaimed over the ensemble, then they both turned to me, grinning maniacally. Had I been forced to express an opinion, I would have had to say I thought they were both pretty damn fugly (denim-colored with fake denim stitchy seams. I've never worn pumps, but believe strongly that they should not look like blue jeans). It was good luck all around then that no one was forcing me to express an opinion. As it was, I just smiled weakly at them. But I resent the assumption that I care about things like fashion accessories and wardrobe coordination just because I have breasts. Sometimes I have to forcibly remind myself that navy blue and black can't be worn together (though I'm still not entirely sure why). I'm a tomboy. I don't fill my head with such silly nonsense.

I went to the inventory (Old Navy) and started working. I noticed a couple of high school kids ask a store employee if he was a leprechaun. Eh, I shrugged it off. Bored kids celebrating St. Patrick's early, I assumed. But then I gradually became aware that there were other kids asking everyone in the store the question, customers, store personnel and RGIS auditors alike. "Are you a leprechaun? Are you a leprechaun?" I could hear all around me. I started to sweat a little. What would I say if they asked me? True, I AM half-Irish, but wouldn't that make me only half-leprechaun? Why did they want to know? Would they try to kiss me if I admitted it? Would they try to steal me gold?

They became quite disruptive, leaving and then slamming back through the front door, screaming in unison "LEPRECHAUN!!!!!!!!!!!!" and stampeding through the store like it was a playground. Adorable. Finally I heard a girl ask me from below my ladder, "Are you a leprechaun?" I turned to her and our gazes locked. It was a bonus that from my height I was naturally looking down my nose at her. I fixed her with my coldest, most withering "get the fuck away from me" stare. She paled visibly and ran away.

I was not asked if I was a leprechaun again.

It's not my fault. I hated high school kids when I WAS a high school kid, and sad to say my love has not grown one iota since then. Hell, I barely tolerate most adults. I'm sure my homegirl Rebecca will back me up on this one, our childhoods were almost identical in terms of harassment and alienation (I know, poor me. It's not like that. I never wanted to be one of the cool kids, I just wanted to be left alone). I asked my boss what the deal was with the recess action, and he explained it was some kind of competition or game the local school was playing. The kids had to run from store to store in the plaza looking for the "leprechaun," someone who they obviously didn't know, necessitating them asking everyone they saw. I'd like to know what kind of school advocates pestering innocent people, or for that matter talking to complete strangers (when I was growing up, the cardinal rule expressly forbade this). Stupid whippersnappers. Kids these days aren't getting enough homework, that's the problem with our society. Yes, I'm a bitch, but like I said, I didn't mind it too much until they started screaming and stampeding.

Given the nature of this post, I think my new Jayne icon (stolen from aurora_z (who frankly has more awesome icons than she knows what to do with), touched up and spit-shined a bit) is just perfect. ♥ ♥ ♥