Carey, Kory, and I made a Target run at lunch today.

A 60ish woman stopped us. “Can you do me a favor, please?” She was holding a jar of mayonnaise.

What sort of favor do you do for a woman holding a jar of mayonnaise? You open it. So that’s the image that popped in all of our heads.

Now why the hell would a woman want me to open a jar of mayonnaise, standing in the middle of the store?

Instead, she said “I can’t read this expiration date. Will you please read it for me?” I took the jar, told her the date, and then offered to find her the jar with the latest date. She appreciated that, took her mayonnaise, and left.

All afternoon we enjoyed the image of one of us unscrewing the lid and handing her back the jar, at which point she’d dip herself a big handful of Hellmann’s and start wolfing it down, perhaps emitting occasional primal grunts, her expression conveying gratitude and satisfaction.

Now even if you like it, mayonnaise is a fairly repulsive substance. Essentially we’re talking about a jar of whipped, mildly flavored fat. It is definitely not a foodstuff for which the appeal is directly proportional to the immediate quantity present. A little spread on a sandwich may be divine; a cup of it glopping through your fingers is disgusting.

Hence the humor of the image of an otherwise apparently dignified woman standing in the SuperTarget, snarfing a jar of chivalrously-opened mayonnaise.