Overheard in checkout line at Shoppers’ Drug Mart late this afternoon, a cell phone conversation between a very pretty and wealthy-looking young woman and her mother (ellipses indicate mother’s end of the conversation, which I could not hear) —

Daughter (in a petulant tone): Oh, there you are! Why don’t you ever pick up the phone? You’re driving me mental!!!

Mother: [. . . . . .]

Daughter (in a snide tone): Well I’m just calling to say that you don’t have to pick me up from work. Jeremy’s giving me a ride home.

Mother: [. . . . .]

Daughter (in a harsh tone): Jeremy! From work! He’s giving me a ride home. So you’re welcome to go out.

Mother: [. . . . . .]

Daughter (sharply): Yes. You can go out, Mom. That’s what I said. You’re welcome to go out.

Mother: [. . . . .]

Daughter (smoothly): Around seven. By the way, do you think you’ll go home first?

Mother: [. . . . .]

Daughter (smoothly): Yeah: first. Before you go out, I mean.

Mother: [. . . . .]

Daughter (cajolingly): . . . because if you do go home first, I’m wondering if you could tidy my room for me.

Mother: [. . . . .]

Daughter (sweetly): Oh please oh please oh please. Go home first and just . .  . just tidy my room for me, okay? And then go out.

Mother: [. . . . .]

[incredible but true — mother does not hang up. This conversation continues as I leave the store.]

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