Playing the pregnancy card

I pulled the card out of my wallet and practically maxed it out this week, and I'm not talking about Visa. I'm not the first woman to play the pregnancy card to her advantage. Perhaps I should feel a bit of guilt, but I just couldn't help myself. Maybe the hormones have made me more assertive?

Just yesterday morning, I arrived at the Post Office at 10:59, maybe 11:00 a.m., as one of the clerks was locking the door for the Saturday closing time. There were still several people inside. I was there to send a Christmas gift to the Webhamster's granny in Arizona. The man said, "Sorry ma'am, we're closed." With exasperation, I replied, "Please...I'm pregnant and I just lugged this heavy box all the way in here. It's Priority Mail flat-rate, so it'll just take a sec to print the label." He looked at my belly and said, "Come on in." JEDI MIND TRICK!

Then, yesterday afternoon we took a break before hunting down the perfectly fat, fresh holiday tree and went to the Indian restaurant in Carbondale. They were only serving the buffet for lunch, but we really wanted to order from the menu. I asked the waiter/proprietor, "We really prefer to have our food very spicy, and I know you have to keep it more plain for local tastes. Could we please order from the menu? The baby really wants it!" Maybe it was the pregnancy factor, or maybe it was because he was so pleased that someone wanted properly-seasoned Indian food--he and I both used the word "bland" in referring to how most people around here like it--but he took our order and attended to us graciously.