I need a Brita filter for my brain

There's a shopping center next door to my workplace, and like everything else in this town, it's a bit snooty. But sometimes, when my pantry's looking a bit bare and I just need a few things to tide me over until my monthly megaspree, I'll walk over to their grocery store on my lunch break, buy a few nonperishable items, and toss them into my trunk on the way back to work. I've become a bit of a homebody in my old age, and when I get home from work, I just want to STAY there. So even though Snooty Grocery Store is incredibly overpriced, I'm willing to get gouged every now and then if it means I can lounge bralessly around my place with a full stomach hanging over the top of my yoga pants instead of reluctantly heading off to my local Vons or Ralph's. Because let's face it, once I'm sprawled out on Big Brown with the remote in my hand, I ain't going NOWHERE.

Today I walked over there and filled up a basket with rice, soup, and ramen. I had a massive craving for Spaghetti-O's, but I didn't see them anywhere. I must have had a quizzical look on my face, because an African-American employee restocking shelves said, "May I help you find something, miss?"

Miss!

I was so happy by the use of "miss" instead of the dreaded "ma'am" that my brain stopped working temporarily. I said, "Well, actually, I was looking for Spaghetti-O's. Do you guys have them or are they too ghetto for this store?"

Yes.

I said that.

And I stood there, completely unsure as to whether I should apologize or just pretend I hadn't said something awful, when he burst into laughter and said, "That's about right! Hell, if it costs less than three bucks a can, we probably don't carry it!"

Then he quickly looked around and said, "Uh, let's pretend I didn't just say that or I'll get in trouble."

I grinned. "Your secret's safe with me."