preMEDitated

I’m not saying that all Jollibee salesladies are slow in the mind. In fact, I admire how many of them balance studies with work. It’s just that I’ve come to encounter one slow saleslady earlier today.
At first I didn’t notice anything wrong with her. I ordered my recent favorite (Beefsteak 39er) and a new dessert item (Mango Caramel Ice Craze). She said the ice craze was unavailable. I was about to order another dessert when the manager came.
Now the manager looked familiar. I knew that I knew here before. I just couldn’t recall who she was. She knew me, and she calls me by my first name. I, however, couldn’t recall her name. The name posted on her name tag did not ring a bell. We even speak like old friends every time we see each other when I order. I pretend to know her, and wait hopefully that I might remember who she was. Unfortunately, the memory always eluded me.
So we were talking again, and the conversation shifted to higher education. She mentioned a name that sounded familiar. I recalled that the guy she mentioned was taking up Law, and was about to finish this semester. That gave me a clue. We must have went to the same high school.
Yet my jabs at recollection were interrupted by the annoying voice of the saleslady. She kept asking if I would order something else. I ignored her, and continued to speak to the manager. After the fourth same question if I would order something else, I was getting annoyed at her. I looked at her with the side of my eyes and muttered, “No.” She was dense. Apparently, she needed some discipline regarding interrupting her manager’s conversations. Just then the manager went off to see an issue with some of the other staff.
I was left alone with the saleslady. I decided to take advantage of this by asking her what the full name of her manager was. Her answer gave me another proof of her slowness. She told me the manager’s nickname, or the name plastered on the manager’s name tag. Then seeing the manager return, I cut the conversation loose and pretend to order another item.
Unfortunately, the not-so-smart-saleslady blurted, “Ma’am, unsa daw imong full name?”
Ma’am, he’s asking for your full name?
I froze. I gave the saleslady the slightest hint of the evil eye and imagined stabbing her in the arm with their complementary plastic fork. The manager sounded offended as she told me her real first name.
Then the memories flooded in my mind. I pretended to have always known who the manager was. I even mentioned her full name. I then made some lame remark on why I asked her full name.
Then I quickly made my exit, muttering about the mental capacity of some salesladies. Some salesladies are just too slow to be entrusted or trusted…