I Am Smart Like the Rain Man

I was President of the Junior League for two years. While president, you are expected to go to all JL events, even those you loathe. You are also expected to be positive about them ... even those you loathe.



One of our long-standing events was a garage sale. For those of you who do not know me, this is not my forte. I don't shop at nor do I hold garage sales. I see no reason to pluck through people's cast-offs hoping to find something delectable. I know some people love "garage sale-ing" {and when did that become a verb?} but I am not one of them. It is simply not my style.


However, as president, off I toodle to the evil garage sale. I volunteer to be a cashier since 1) I LOVE money, 2) no one else ever wants to do this task and 3) numbers don't make me cry.


Since everything is priced in clean increments ($1.50, $2, .25), I found it easier to add things up in my head rather than use a calculator. I assure you this was not rocket science (though I can do that too, I am a total math geek).


This woman is, apparently, standing behind me for quite some time verifying my figures with her calculator. And, lo and behold, I am correct. I have no idea that she is doing this since I am not owl-like and can't see behind me.

At some point, this woman SCREECHES "Mavis, this girl is really good with numbers. I think she is autistic. Like. The. Rain. Man."


I turn to her and calmly state "First, that is Savant Syndrome, not autism. Second, I am neither a savant nor am I deaf; so, third, please stop yelling."


Totally oblivious to my intonation, she replies "Well, I have been checking and you are always right. Even faster than me and my calculator."


"Oh goodie, I shall call my parents and tell them all the money on private education has not been wasted. I am indeed quite speedy at simple math. They will be so proud."


That lady is Exhibit A as to why I don't "garage sale."