How the South Stole Hanukkah

Luckily, I had some leftover Hanukkah candles from last year to hold me for the first couple of nights of that loveable Jewish holiday known as the festival of lights. But there won't be light for long if the local merchants here in Chapel Hill don't come up with some friggin' candles.

My first stop was Harris Teeter, which since it stocks matzoh all year round seemed like a good bet. The guy there that I asked was quite helpful, walking all around the store and finally talking to the manager before determining that they were sold out. I didn't bother asking if they'd be getting any more since this will all be a moot point in a week. Nice planning, Harris Teeter.

Then I go to the Food Lion, which I obviously had no hope for. Since Hanukkah candles are not made of tainted meat, cigarettes or strange Latino tropical juice drinks, it was a pretty good certainty that the Lion would not be stocking them. But I ask anyway. The exchange is pretty much what I expected, only slightly more ridiculous and painful.

Me: Do you have Hanukkah candles?
Customer Service Girl: What?
Me: Hanukkah candles.
CSG: What are those?
Me: Candles, for Hanukkah.
CSG: Like the really tall ones?
Me: Uh.....no.
CSG: Oh you mean for the, um .... (At this point, she breaks into a hand motion that is either a crudely air-drawn menorah or an amateurish attempt at conducting a symphony orchestra. I'm pretty sure she's on the right track, but her ignorance makes me want to make it difficult for her, so I just say nothing and continue staring at her like the backwoods retard she is. Finally she manages to blurt out some more words.) Like the thing with five things?
Me: Eight, but yeah.
CSG: No. We don't have those.

So the candles are lit, but I'll have to find some more tomorrow somewhere or the holiday will very, very ironically be cut short due to my lack of eight nights worth of candles to celebrate the holiday that commemorates the miracle of one night's worth of oil lasting eight.

But somehow I have a feeling that delicious irony will be just as lost on the people I'm dealing with as Judaism is. So I'll search on, wondering to myself, who do you have to crucify to get some friggin' Hanukkah candles in this town?