“Huh? Why do you say that?” I replied just as the mushroom gravy escaped my plastic two-prong fork and began dribbling down my chin, very ladylike.
“Tell me, again, the poutine story.” He said, mildly irritated, which I attributed to the fact that I wasn’t sharing. (I have a problem…I don’t like to share my food, especially food I really love like chips, buttered popcorn, poutine, and beer.)
“I went down to the food truck grounds and found the gourmet poutine food truck that advertises veggie gravy. I didn’t have any cash with me but I had my bankcard and I was hoping that there was a debit machine located on the mobile eatery.” I paused for dramatic cliffhanger effect.
“When I got to the counter I asked if they accepted Canadian Tire money, he said no. I asked if he took personal checks, also a no. So that’s when I said ‘it’s lucky’ then that I have this debit card.” I paused here to let how witty I think I am sink in for Jack.
“The cashier/chef was laughing, most likely because I am old enough to know what a personal check is and that I can use it as a punch line in a joke; he informed me that they, unfortunately, didn’t have a debit machine. But since I had such a great sense of humour he would comp me whatever I wanted to order. So I ordered this. Extra large veggie supreme poutine.”
“That would never happen to me. That would never happen to a guy, no matter how funny we were.” Jack stated.
“So your point is that you think we ladies have it easy?” I asked with one eyebrow raised.
“Have you ever heard of Midol?” I countered.