Leaving

(I recently moved from Los Angeles, CA, to Small Town, CT, for work at a specific sports company based in Connecticut. I haven’t gotten around to changing over my California driver’s license yet. I make the mistake of stopping in to buy cigarettes.)

Me: “Hi. Can I have a pack of [Brand]?”

Cashier: “Sure, can I see ID?”

Me: “Of course, here you go.”

Cashier: “California?!”

Me: “Yup, just moved here. I’ll get an updated ID soon.”

Cashier: *practically screeching* “WHY ARE YOU IN CONNECTICUT, THEN?!”

Me: “I lost my job in Los Angeles, and it’s really expensive to live there even with a job, so I moved back east to stay with family and then I was offered a job at [Well Known Company just up the road]. I couldn’t say no.”

Cashier: *snotty now* “Why in the world would you ever leave California? I mean you could live on the beach if you were homeless; it’s not like you’d need money!”

Me: “Um, no, I have student loans and other bills that need to get paid. Besides, it’s not everyday you’re offered a job, so it’s kind a really good opportunity.”

Cashier: “I don’t care. You NEVER should have left California. I don’t care what kind of job I was offered. I would have never left!”

Me: “Okay, well, good for you. Career-wise it made sense for me to move to work here.”

Cashier: “I don’t care. I can’t believe you would move. That’s just so crazy. Why would you do that?!”

Me: “Okay, that’s enough. Give me cigarettes and my beverage and stop questioning my life choices, unless you want me to start asking about yours!”

Cashier: “Well, fine, but there is no need to get snotty about it!”

Me: “Okay, then.”

(As I’m leaving she calls out again:)

Cashier: “I just don’t understand why you would leave California! You’re crazy!”