In most regards, I lead the life of a Boy Scout. I'm clean, thrifty, trustworthy, cheerful, obedient, etc. [Editor's note: Obedient? This guy tolerates supervision about as well as Britney Spears tolerates underwear.] But I have a dark side to my soul. I mess with the hired help at retail establishments.

As you'll see below, the temptation is great and my will is weak. Sure, it sometimes seems like these people are begging for smart-guy gibes as they go about their jobs. But that's just blaming the victim. So my apologies go out to:

The hosts and hostesses at various area restaurants. If you have this job, you surely know that certain questions are a curveball hanging over the plate, waiting to be batted out of the ballpark. One of them is this: "Do you have reservations?"

C'mon. You know how hard that is to resist? If you insist on playing the straight man, don't complain when you get the obvious answer. Do I have reservations? "Yeah, but I thought I'd give this place a try anyway."

Similarly, you're setting yourself up when you ask, "Do you have a smoking preference?" My children actually groan when they hear that question. They know what's coming. Something like:

"Opium, straight up."

"Ganja, assuming it's good."

"Put us in the crack section."

The checkout clerks at Harris Teeter. I'll say this for the grocery chain: Its employees stay on message better than a Bush administration flunky. I can't go into any Harris Teeter without being asked the same question, phrased exactly the same way: "Did you find everything you were looking for?"

Don't get me wrong. I love customer service. But after you hear this question a thousand times, you understand it's about as sincere as the automated phone voice that assures you your call is really important. Besides, at that point, I'm in the checkout line. I'm ready to leave, not search further.

So I answer a question with a question: "I'm looking for happiness. Which aisle is that on?"

Feel free to use this next time you're in Harris Teeter. And customize it to your own needs. Replace "happiness" with "love," "inner peace," "the secret of life," "my car keys that were lost last week," etc. It's guaranteed fun.

The people at the Sam's Club exit door. You can't leave Sam's Club until you've had your cart frisked, presumably to keep you from sneaking off with a 12-pack of car batteries that you haven't paid for. Because the only two items I regularly buy at Sam's Club are dog food (Fit & Trim, 44-pound bag) and beer (Red Stripe when available), I've had countless opportunities to put a concerned look on my face and say this to the cart-checker: "I think my dog might have a drinking problem."

One day recently, though, I got one-upped, leaving me with no retort. I also had a jug of mouthwash in the cart that afternoon, and the cart-checker had an immediate comeback: "Yeah, and some bad breath, too."

Actually, she doesn't rate an apology as much as she does a round of applause.

[Editor's note: She left him speechless? Maybe we should hire her.]