It's Called Shopping.

Yes, you. You're the middle-aged man sent to a strange and scary place. You've been sent on a witch hunt for a crazy concoction (by your over-stressed wife or other legal guardian living in your residence). You've paced an aisle not really looking, but you do look flabbergasted. I've looked up to keep tabs on things, make sure nobody is at the counter and our eyes meet for a nanosecond. You've mistaken this as an invitation. I've realized you're going to ask me. For what seems like an eternity and a brief moment at the same time I try to get in a sip of coffee, but....there you are. You're in front of me. You have on a shimmering sports team jacket. You don't smell bad, but you certainly don't smell good in any way. Is that a musty smell? You're out of breath and slightly panicked. I think you have some important news. Actually, I know you don't, but it'd be a refreshing change. Instead, your "c'mon hurry up" nature is prevalent. It's palpable how anxious you are to get back home and watch some sporting event on television; perhaps one that features your shimmering jacket team. I pretend nobody is there. You drop your keys on the counter. I pretend I can't hear metal meeting Formica. You cough not because you have to or you are ill, but to grab my attention. I don't hear attention coughing. You sigh loudly and tap your fingertips on the counter. My technician is on the phone. My other technician is at the drive-through. Shit. It's down to me. Finally, after all this transpires (in a span of 5 seconds, what horrible customer service) I turn to you and say: "Can I help y.... You interrupt rudely: "Is children's Benadryl the same as adult Benadryl?"

Now I get it. You're Benadryl guy. You've been sent to procure one item and one item alone. You have no intentions on perusing our sunglasses, shoelaces (only 'old guy' asks us for those - another entry for another day) shaving creams, cotton balls, candy bars or even our sweatpants. No, you've been sent on a one item mission. You've failed before you've tried. You see, sir, "shopping" is not pacing around for ten seconds pretending to look and then asking the pharmacy staff. Try reading the fucking signs. Those are the words, giant words, plastered above the cough and cold section. They may indeed hold the key to your journey. I definitely hold the key to your journey, but that's like President for a hall pass (overkill). Just take a deep breath and look at the signs and you'll be home in no time not hanging up your shimmering team sports jacket and lounging not gracefully whilst balancing a beer on your stomach.

Or, maybe I'll just do what I always do. I'll point to the back wall, in true Sherpa fashion, and squint a little so it looks like I care. Then I'll tell you the "adult liquid Benadryl" is within that subsector, but cleverly hidden in the "children's" section. You'll come back and say it doesn't say anything about adults on the bottle. I'll laugh on the inside. It's a dirty little dance, but something has to entertain me throughout the day. Look, just make it seem like you tried, alright? Just act a little and I'll even come out and hand it to you. Just don't be that guy.