I'm not wrong about anything in particular at this moment. And while I don't like to be wrong, and sure, like anyone else don't like to admit it, I can when I am. As an example, just yesterday I returned tests. I corrected three or four errors that I had made in correcting them.
I stopped by Longs tonight for a couple quick purchases, and I paid with my debit card. That means I swipe it and follow the commands on the screen. After going through the pin number, declining cash-back, promising to kneel before Zod, and whatever else it wanted me to do, I was told to "Wait for the cashier." At that point, the cashier, a teenage boy, is looking around the store instead of at the register. I wait. I look at him, and back and forth to the message that still states, "Wait for the cashier." I continue to wait with a short cough. He looks at me. He looks down to pad where I entered my information. He looks to his register. Quickly, he reaches up and pushes a button with one hand, and with the other starts reaching toward my pad, telling me that "You have to push the button." At the instant he had pushed his button, mine had changed, asking for confirmation.
So he spaced out for about five seconds. So what? Why does he have to do this little display to make it look like we were waiting for ME? How about a quick "Sorry." I would even accept a phrase that I hate, "My bad." (That reminds me that my hatred for that phrase needs to be a blog for another day.) Or even still, don't say anything. Just push your little button and then wait for me. Nobody cares - I just wanted to get on with my little transaction and be on with it.
The thing is, I don't care if he needed to admit that his little space out was wrong. It's that suddenly he tried to deflect it to me. What is this guy going to do when something does go really wrong? Looks like this is a kid that learned well from the Bush administration.