At Flannigan's Grocery
"Paper or plastic?"
"How dare you? How DARE you?!"
"Sir???"
"You forgot to ask me if I'd like to save audacious percentages from my bill by signing up for your store card."
"This is Flannigan's, sir. We don't have a store card."
"Don't you at least have some kind of irresistible mega January 8 sale?"
"No, sir."
"Well, then surely you'd like to invite my comment as to whether I found everything I was looking for and had the best experience possible!"
"Was there something you needed help finding?"
"Of course not! I wouldn't have checked out otherwise."
"Of course, sir. And...would you like paper or plastic?"
"How DARE you?!"
"I beg your pardon?"
"Here I am at the checkout--the CHECKOUT, I tell you--and you haven't so much as asked me for my ZIP code, let alone my previous three home addresses or weight in kilograms on the Moon. What kind of store is this?"
"This is Flannigan's Grocery, sir."
"Yes, well, I'm sure now's the moment you've been waiting for to spring on me the oh-so-innocent question of whether I'd like to take a moment to donate a dollar for charity! Ah hah! I'm on to your little games."
"No, sir. I just want to know what kind of bags you'd like for your groceries."
"Unlikely! You haven't needed to pick up that little phone of yours and summon the manager with some special overlord's key to open your till there."
"There's no need. You're all paid up and you got your change."
"Am I in the wrong line or something?"
"Sir?"
"This is completely unacceptable. Where are the exhortations, the solicitations? Where are the promises of glimmering bargains beyond the dreams of avarice? I demand a barrage of point-of-sale demands for my time, money, and energy!"
"I suppose you like you could tell me whether you'd like paper or plastic bags."
"Touché! And well-played, I must concede! But you won't have it so easily from me. I brought my OWN bags! They're right here in the...er...in the trunk of my car."
"..."
"..."
"..."
"How about plastic?"
"Yes, sir."