I was having such a good day, too. I went out to buy a whole bunch of kicka** photography lighting. The sales guy was taking a while getting to me, but I didn't mind. He was busy, I understand. Besides, I was in a good mood. When it was my turn, I even offered to let the next guy go ahead, since I knew I'd be a while. The gear I got cost me a lot and I did put it on credit card (both for the cc insurance and for the points), but I have enough in the bank to cover it without worry. Plus, on the whole thing, I ended up being within $7 of what I budgeted! Not bad, given how many parts got changed out on the fly. Yay for me!
I found out that the flash heads, the main part of the transaction, weren't in stock, and wouldn't be available for another two weeks. The last time I heard this (from another store), I hadn't heard back from them for a few months. I ended up canceling my order with the other store. However, hearing it from this guy didn't phase me in the least. S**t happens, and these guys have enough of a reputation, I have faith in them, so I was completely good with it. So far, so good, right?
At the very, very end of the transaction, a wrench got thrown into the machine. I mean, a wrench the size of New Hampshire. After I had paid for everything, and he had everything together, he went through the list to scan it in and show me that it was all there. As he did this, a song came on the radio. It was Pearl Jam's cover of "Last Kiss". It is one of three songs that triggers me something awful. I had to dig my nails into my skin well into the point of pain to keep from breaking down right there in front of him. I couldn't excuse myself for a minute, because there was nowhere to go; the music was being piped in throughout the store. To make it worse, he was humming along with it. Thankfully, he didn't see my eyes well up. I don't think he did, anyway.
After a tearful end to an otherwise happy transaction, I got out of there and went to a local bike show/get together, hoping it'd calm me down a little. No one that I knew was there, but it did get my mind off that song.
After the show, went home, saw the folks, and we talked about our days. I made the mistake of mentioning that a song rattled me, and she asked which one (so that she wouldn't sing it by accident). Again, I made the mistake of telling her. It got stuck in my head and just wouldn't leave.
So now there's a gash in my left arm. I tried hard not to; I really did. But I failed.
