Yesterday I was checking out at a store when the cashier asked if I was a rewards member. “I am,” I told him, “but I can’t find my card.”

“Don’t worry. Can I have your phone number?”

I began to recite my number when the cashier went on: “Numbers are useful for stuff like this. And for stalking.”

A chuckle died in my throat.

Afterward, I tried to give him the benefit of the doubt. He had been trying to make a joke—a very bad joke—but who hasn’t been there?