On my way home from the bank, I decided to swing by the grocery store to pick up a few items. Before I ventured home, I was standing next to my bike, no more than thirty feet from the entrance to the store, munching on trail mix. This upperclass trophy wife (not so sure if she actually was, but that's the image she was putting out) attempted to walk in, but the automatic sliding doors weren't opening, for whatever reason. She paused awkwardly, backed up a step, and tried again. Nothing, doors didn't open. At this point, it was obvious she was getting a little frustrated and annoyed, and began to get all anxious.
As she stewed in anger for a few moments (which probably felt like minutes to her), I yelled, "Oh, no. You don't have a soul!" Immediately, her head spins around, and her eyes glare at me. I'm talking a death stare kind of glare. I smirk, and raise my trail mix, as if I were extending a toast. Magically (well, okay, not magically, but you get my point), the doors open. She stomps inside. I resume my snacking.
After thinking about it for a minute to two, I can only conclude two things. She obviously didn't get my Simpsons reference, and some people just don't have a sense of humor.