For many men, the day they became men was a milestone to be celebrated.
In Judaism they have a Bar Mitzvah, in ancient Rome, new men assumed the ‘toga virilis'(Toga of Manhood’), and in my life, you just get called ‘sir’ when you wish to purchase a doll for your little friend.
My day started like any other, up at 5.45 to watch Spongebob, play with my dolls and chill out, when I decided just one doll was not enough.
I waited patiently for my mum to arrive home from work so she could chauffer me to my fave toy store, as my Cosy Coupe is no longer road worthy (I haven’t actually been able to fit in it for the past 15 years) but that’s beside the point.
When I arrived at Smyths, I perused the aisles, eyeing up all the bikes, swings and other play things until I found the aisle I was looking for – the doll aisle.
I decided I wanted a Tiny Tears, cos she has hair, and she cries, and wets herself all at the same time!
Once I had selected my doll, I proceeded to the check out…
I decided to queue behind one lady purchasing two items, which took about five minutes because the cashier decided it was an appropriate time to spend approximately 18 million years discussing her personal life over some Hot Wheels,
So I went over to a man, I believe he was named Greg.
I said hello, he did too.
I smiled and he said: “Would you like a bag?”
I politely declined.
“Would you like a free catalogue today, sir?”
I am a lady, I protested, whilst still quite clearly offended that I had been called sir.
You find a man who looks like and I’ll eat my hat
Well it’s a good thing I don’t actually have a hat.
First of all,
I most certainly do not look like a man today – I was wearing make up for the first time in like 79 years, my nails were glittery and purple, and my legs were clad in tights, and semi-hidden by a skirt, so with this in mind, this rude check out man had the audacity to refer to me as ‘sir’, and then deny it, even though it was clearly audible, and my mother, of whom wasn’t even stood next to me, but near me heard it.
I didn’t even get a sorry!
The worst part about being called ‘sir’ is that just two short hours before, I had waxed my moustache .
So, the likelihood of me visiting that particular toy store again is slim to none, maybe the day I become a real life sir I will, but for the time being, I think I’ll continue to be a Toys R Us Kid…