The woman behind the counter at the pharmacy repeats my request to her diminutive co-worker, who dutifully heads to the back to retrieve it. “Can you reach it?” she adds to her retreating back, not unkindly, but with a little smirk.
“Let me know if I need to help out,” I ask, stretching my arm up to demonstrate my ability. ““My wife pimps me out to short people at the grocery store all the time to get stuff off the top shelf.”
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