A conversation between myself (Me), my girlfriend (Becky), and a man at a grocery store checkout (Him), wherein I forgot that people don’t like being corrected; nor do they like know-it-alls, nor do they like it when someone turns a bit of dull small talk into an actual conversation.
Him: Is that everything?
Me: Yes, thanks.
Him: That’ll be… £6.66! The number of the devil…
Me: The Beast, actually.
Me: It was the number of The Beast, who isn’t necessarily supposed to be The Devil. Also, interestingly, it was originally “six score and six”, which is supposed to translate as 616, but it was misread and rebranded over the ages.
Him: *a blank stare followed by a scowl at the man in queue behind us laughing*
Becky: He… knows lots of obscure facts…
Him: Yeah… Whatever.
Me: Umm… There you go. Keep the change. Thanks.
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
Why do I speak? Remember, Felix. No one gives a shit. Just nod and smile and then go home and talk to your cats, because they’re totally interested in what you have to say.