That’s…not my husband!

Yesterday we went to Gander Mtn. to get David a pair of winter boots. It would seem we have chosen to live in a VERY snowy area where shoveling is a daily thing. Somehow in all of our moves we managed to get rid of David’s winter boots, so we were on a mission yesterday!

We couldn’t find his size in a particular style so I went to find an “associate” (as they were called in this store) to help. I found a man, told him my husband needed help with a boot size and we proceeded to walk back to the boots. The associate stops at the first man he sees and starts helping him. I said, “Oh, sir, that’s not my husband.” The other shopper looked at me strangely, and the associate just kept going. I thought maybe he didn’t hear me so I said it louder, “Sir, that’s not my husband!” Again, totally ignoring what I’m saying. I look up and the shopper is confused, MY husband is confused, and I’m about to burst into laughter at how hilarious this was all becoming. FINALLY, the other shopper realized what was going on and at the same time I said EVEN louder, “SIR! THAT IS NOT MY HUSBAND! My husband, here, needs help!” The associate was very embarrassed by the whole situation, and I just thought it was hilarious. He was UBER helpful from that point on, even to the point of walking us to the register. Still makes me giggle!

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