You’re not sure what a “horascope” is, but you’re pretty sure it’s not worth nearly an hour of work at minimum wage in 1999. Besides that, you’re almost certain you’ve heard before that trees are supposed to come in one piece, not three, so that sounds like a climbing accident waiting to happen.
“I’ll take the misc,” you tell the clerk.
She stares at you with mild confusion before simply asking “What?”
“The misc,” you reiterate, patiently and pleasantly while pointing at the pink-painted plastic tub. “One, please.”
“Um, that means miscellaneous,” she tries to explain. “You’re meant to pick so-“
“I will have your finest misc, or I will have a conversation with your manager, young lady,” you snap.
The clerk eyes you with more disgust than fear, reaches into the box, and pulls out a painting of a sad-looking cartoon frog wearing a blue t-shirt. She lays it on the counter in front of you and says “Ten dollars.”
You retrieve a ten from your pocket and drop it beside the book. “Thank you,” you tell her. “I’m glad you could be reasonable despite your obvious impairment. Good day.”
Another wonderful Wednesday.