The Price Check on Boudreaux's Butt Paste

I confess to blushing easily; sometimes while doing something that really shouldn't call for that.  I once was asked by a family member to buy some Boudreaux's Butt Paste (this is a real product) at a big box store, and I was able to find what I was looking for after a longish search.  So far, so good.

When I went to the checkout, the checker, a younger guy, called on the loudspeaker for a price check from pharmaceuticals.  The response, also by loudspeaker, was "Okay."  Here's the dialogue that followed, approximately:

MY CHECKER:  "I'd like a price check on Bou-drucks Butt Paste."

DISEMBODIED VOICE: "What?"

MY CHECKER:  "Bou-druck's Butt Paste"

ME:  "That's Bou-dreau, Sir!"

MY CHECKER:  "Whatever . . . ."

DISEMBODIED VOICE:  "You're kidding."

MY CHECKER:  "No, this is real.  I'm looking at it.  This lady needs it for her butt."

Now all eyes from the surrounding checkout lanes were fixated on me; each one wondering what kind of rear end problem I had.

MY CHECKER:  "Maybe she's fixing the butt crack."  [giggles]

Finally the Disembodied Voice calls in the amount, and the checker rings up the amount.  I'm totally red-faced at this time.

When I got back to my apartment I looked at the container of Boudreaux's Butt Paste.  It had a price sticker on it.

My conclusion is that the whole tableau was staged for entertainment purposes.

I'm glad I was not trying to buy a bra!