I had an odd experience at Surfas today. I took the kids there this morning to let them each pick out a jar of sprinkles for cookie decorating this Saturday. (Note: Boy-o chose red and green Christmas sprinkles over dinosaurs. What?) Of course, I couldn't resist grabbing a few items from my ongoing wish list including another cookie sheet and a teaspoon-sized disher.
In the disher aisle, I met a woman also looking at dishers. She was clearly familiar with the different sizes and said by way of explanation, "I'm in the industy." Fine. She then correctly identified on sight the one I needed (size 100, for those of you playing along at home).
At the register, we were in line behind the same woman, and I asked her what she does "in the industry." She smiled and said, "I'm a chef." I asked where, and she replied, "Santa Monica."
Now, I realize that linguistically, that is what I asked. But did she really think I was trying to figure out in what city she performs her cheffery? Is there some reason she'd want to keep it a secret? Perhaps lives are at stake (steak)?
I know what Josh would say: "That's what you get for going outside!"