Baby I’ve got your number

After running an errand at the mall, I visited my favourite CD shop with a mind to reserve certain albums (namely Jamiroquai’s Late Night Tales, and new albums from Zero 7 and Sweetback). I hadn’t been to the shop in a few months but two of the salespeople recognised me.
I decided to pick up an acid jazz / house compilation album.
The salesgirl / cashier told me how much I had to pay, with members’ discount. Then I realised I hadn’t given her my card yet. I know they usually keep tabs on membership numbers.
“No need,” she smiled. “I remember your number.” And she recited it to me.
I was stunned because I didn’t even know my own number. I opened my wallet, took out the card and looked at it.
By Jove, she was right. I felt like Imelda Marcos in a shoe shop!
I just hope they don’t do the same thing with my credit card…


Comments are closed.