Loyalty

I bought something in a shop. The sales assistant began the payment transaction and immediately a bizarre conversation started.

“Do you have a loyalty card?” she asked.
“Uh, no …” It was the word ‘loyalty.’ It felt odd to reply negatively to that word. So, I tried to qualify my lack of loyalty.
“No. Sorry. I don’t. Erm … not that I’m not loyal. I am … uh, you know … usually.”
She smiled. “Usually?”
“Uh, no … I mean, mostly. Mostly loyal.”
She raised an eyebrow. I felt I was being judged. Her next sentence seemed to confirm that. “I see, so sometimes you’re not loyal? Would you like a bag?”
The switch threw me. “A bag? Uh, yeah … please. No, I meant that I am loyal, uh, all the time, just not to this …” I stopped. I couldn’t say ‘shop.’ She worked there. It was her livelihood. And what with shops closing in high streets … “Err, I mean I’m loyal where it matters.”
Her expression grew serious. Clearly she considered that I thought her shop didn’t matter. I felt guilty, so I said, “But I’d quite like a loyalty card, if you have one.”
Her smile beamed back on. “Excellent. I’ll just take your details, sir. Each time you shop you will receive points and be eligible for certain discounts. Now, can I take your email address?”
Great, I thought. I'll get emails every two days trying to sell me stuff I don't want. I only go in that shop about once every ten years! Oh, well, another loyalty card gathering dust in a drawer.

Either I’m a mug or she’s a great salesperson … or both!