“Why don’t you help that little girl over there?”
I looked around the appliance store, wondering what “little girl” the salesman was referring to. I had my three young children with me, one a babe in a stroller. Seeing no one else in the area, I realized he was talking about me. For heaven’s sake! I was thirty-two years old. Hardly a little girl. I was there to buy my first microwave oven, a big investment back in the early days of that miracle technology. I expected to be taken seriously, especially with money in my wallet.