I think I’m losing my hearing.

Earlier this week when I stopped for lunch, at the counter I ordered some chicken meal, and when the young woman behind the counter asked me something, I just stared at her blankly. I knew she had said something, as her mouth was moving, and I had heard something, but I didn’t know what. I took a stab at what I hoped she was asking:

“Breast, please.”

Staring back at me for a minute like I was some sort of idiot, she very slowly, and a little louder than I thought was necessary, repeated her request:

“DO YOU WANT A DRINK?”

I decided against trying to explain to her what I thought she said, and took the walk of shame to the soda fountain. It could have been worse. I mean, at least at a chicken place you can actually make that breast request and it won’t get you a face full of pepper spray or a ride in a squad car. When my order came up, the number was announced through the loudspeaker. It was the only time it was used while I was there, and the place was full of senior citizens.
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