My neighbor is a 70-something cat lady who will take me to lunch every other weekend in exchange for lifting all the cat litter and cat food at the pet store and then unloading it at her place.
Last December…before everything, the store decided they weren’t letting carts leave the building, so I took the first bunch of bags to the car and went back while she got the car started and pulled up to the doors.
On the last trip inside, a Karen grabs my wrist and snaps “You’re helping me next.”
I give the “Sorry, I don’t work here” spiel and she seems to absorb that I’m not wearing a polo and khakis and that I’m listening to music.
This does not stop her though. “Well, you’ll still help me anyway.”
And, with the desperation of having held back a joke I’d wanted to make for years, I said, “You’ll have to buy me dinner first.” And left.