Blair and I need passport photos to attach to our visa applications to enter Russia. Blair went to CVS last night for his and I followed this morning.
After the girl snapped the photos, she pulled the pictures up on a screen. Along with my photos were the pictures of the last few people whose photos she'd snapped.
"That's my husband," I said pointing to Blair's picture.
The clerk clutched a hand to her heart and turned to face me, her face melting in a soft little "Oh" of admiration. "That's your husband? He is the nicest man. He had to wait around for me to get his picture and he was so patient and kind about it."
"Yes, that's him," I agreed. "Nothing ruffles him."
"He's just so patient," she said. "I was all in a hurry and he just told me to take my time, he was in no rush. He was just so nice. I wish everyone was like him."
I'll stop here, but the clerk actually went on for another few minutes about what a great person Blair is. I hear this a lot from people - friends and strangers alike. It makes me proud. Blair is a nice guy. I'm glad other people see it in him.
I have to wonder though, what the conversation would have been if I had gone in first and Blair had followed, pointing to my picture and saying, "That's my wife."
Somehow, I don't think the torrent of gushing over my fab personality would have followed. More likely, Blair would have been the recipient of a pitying look and maybe they'd slip him a free peppermint as consolation. Or else they would have charged him double for making them have to deal with his bitch of a wife. I have NO patience. I am the embodiment of the annoyed toe-tapping, eye-rolling, why-aren't-you-paying-attention-to-ME-don't-you-know-how-important-I-am customer from hell.
Perhaps this was a little reminder to work on my people skills. Although I think I could be as sugar-sweet nice as I know how and still not earn the admiration Blair does. People know genuine goodness when they see it and Blair is the real thing.
Opposites attract--lucky for me.