A few weeks ago (at least, making the lag time between the event and this post a source of frustration for Caitlin), I found myself in an AT&T store near my workplace. For the second time, I was trying to get a corporate discount applied to my account. I’m minding my own business when my celebradar starts to blow up. I notice a dude that I think is Chicago’s own Ed Swiderski milling about in the store.
For those not in the know, Ed was the eventual winner of the latest season of The Bachelorette and winning Jillian’s affections. At least, I think it’s him. I make some moves to get to the bottom of this thing – the first of which, is to look over the AT&T sign-in sheet. I don’t see an “Ed” on the list. I snatch another glance at the man I think is Ed, and he’s clearly in waiting mode. My mind begins to spin as I realize that this guy has the nerve to cut in front of upstanding patrons such as myself based on his oh-so-thin celebrity status. Before I can get my next in-store move together, I text Caitlin with my rough estimate of probability that I’m in the store with Ed Swiderski (75% certainty).
Soon enough, a store employee calls out “Ed,” and boom, just like that, BOOM: identity confirmed. Next, my name is called off the sign-in sheet and I move to the back of the store, where I have to interact with the manager to accomplish my task, while at the same time pretending I that I’m texting or receiving a text on the phone – or really anything that allows me to hold up the phone at eye level and at arms-length away, in order to step into the role of paparazzi and bag this big-game target. Here’s the photo:
Knowing it was Ed, I tried to eavesdrop into his conversation with the service rep. Apparently, he was replacing his bluetooth headphones, but to this day, I maintain that he had to be picking up his bluetooth headphones for a friend, because there’s no way that celebrities use bluetooth the same way that regular folks do. There’s just no way.