Chandel wins; OR How to pull me out of a funk OR Be careful what you wish for

Most.  Embarrassing.  Moment.  Ever. 

Seriously.  More than getting fall-down drunk in front of friends a couple of weeks ago.  More than getting stood up.  More than inappropriate jokes I've told in front of the wrong people.  More than ANYthing I've ever done while under the influence of anything.

I met a woman yesterday who took me at my word.  Who pushed a joke further than I ever have.  Who was fearless in her humor.  Who was balls-out unstoppable.  She wins.  She wins for embarrassing me more than I have EVER embarrassed anyone.  EVER. 

Chandel, Lowe's employee.  She wins.  I completely surrender.  I left Lowe's yesterday, mortified.  Blushing.  Embarrassed to the core.  Chandel, my hat's off.

Here's how she won:

I went to Lowe's to buy some replacement Adirondack chairs for the kids' school's front porch.  Between us, M and I sit in them every afternoon, and the old ones had fallen victim (I suspect) to some unruly jumping.  I entered Lowe's.   Went directly to Chandel's line.  Asked her if I may purchase 4 Adirondack chairs (blue) that were displayed in front of the store. 

Chandel took a piece of paper, excused herself and went to get the SKU number off of the stack of chairs.  She returned.  Conducted the transaction.

I asked if it were possible for some one to separate the 4 purchased chairs from the stack and put them in my car, as all of the chairs were chained together for security.  She nodded, and said, "uh-huh.  Baby, you're lookin' at her.  Lemme ring up these folks behind you, and I'll be right out to help ya."

Here's where things went sour:

"Chandel, you?  I don't want YOU to have to go out there again.  Don't you have some eye candy that can go out there and get 'em for me?"

"Honey, who you want?"

"I'm joking.  I just thought it'd be funny to ask for eye candy."

"No, who you want?  The real eye candy don't work during the week, but I find you some one."

"No, NO.  That's ok.  I was kidding.  I'll see you out there, Chandel."

"How 'bout that guy behind you?"

(I turn, there's a guy in line behind me.  Regular Joe Painter.  NOT eye candy, NOT a Lowe's employee.)

"Um,  he doesn't work here?!"

"Aw, he's got a ring on.  He's married.  No good."

"I'll see you outside."

By now, I'm embarrassed, but not terribly.  Our conversation was loud enough for the guy behind me to hear, but it wasn't inappropriate or anything.  I move my car.  I clear out all the kid crap in the back.  I double check--I AM wearing my wedding rings.

I'm waiting.  Right by the Adirondack chairs. Chandel comes out with this cute guy.  I mean C-U-T-E.  Not a Joe Plumber.  He appeared reasonably fit.  Six two or so.   Probably my age, maybe younger.  Wearing a cap, but looking NOT like an average Alabamian at Lowe's.  He smiled.  Nice smile.  Straight.  All his teeth.  Well groomed, hip blondish beard.  Not wearing football attire affiliated with any SEC school. 

No navy Lowe's vest.

Chandel's eyes are twinkling.  She's walking in front of him, and indicates with her hands that he appears to have a nice derriere.  She's making faces to indicate she thinks he's attractive, and winking and confidentially assuring me that she's picked a good melon.

Guy smiles directly at me.  He introduces himself, but now, I can't even come close to recalling what he said. He's cute.  I'm blushing.  And, suddenly, sweating.  Very adeptly, he gets the chairs off the giant stack, and starts to put them in the car.  Chandel is going crazy behind him with silent gestures.  As Guy is loading the car, Chandel comes over and says she needs to sign my receipt.  Wha?  She hands me a slip of paper with Guy's phone number!  She took it down when he gave it to her as part of his credit card transaction.  WHA?  She jams a notebook and a pen into my hand, demands that I write my number on it. 

I'm really sweating now.  I look up at Guy.  He seems to know what the hell is going on.  Why don't I?

I push the notebook away... NO.  I'm not giving him my number.  I wanted eye candy not a booty call.  Things are very out of control now.  I'm sweating profusely, and I can feel hives coming up on my neck for everyone to see (my body manifests embarrassment and intoxication with hives.  Not helpful for playing it cool.)  Guy closes the hatch on the Jetta wagon, smiling and "there ya go"-ing, and he IS handsome, and everything is swirling, and I'm married.  I mean mortified.

Chandel looks at me, "Chicken," she practically hisses.  What, is there a pimp fee for her at stake here?  WHA?

I thank Guy.  Shake his hand.  Drop the crumbled piece of paper with his phone number on the ground intentionally, as I slide in the drivers' seat.  Nonchalantly.  Guy did nothing wrong, I don't want to be rude.

I practically screech out of the parking lot.  I've got the windows down, the air on, all the way.  I check myself in the rear view, and the hives are HUGE on my neck.  The apples of my cheeks are so red, they are physically hot.  I'm dying.

I backtrack in my mind.  Where did things go from funny to holy shit?  Was it not clear that I was joking?  Married?  Being kind of a sexist jerk for fun?  I have a momentary flash--how far could that have gone?--but it flies out of my brain almost instantly. 

I have to start going to Home Depot.