“Lemon oil? No…let me look.”

“There it is, lemon oil.”

“That stuff is not real, that’s fake.”

[Cromwell picks up the plastic bottle of lemon oil for the conditioning of fine wood tables, looks at the label, looks at me like just another idiot working part-time at the retail store.  I could have sworn he expected more of me.] “Here it is,” he said and clasped it so I couldn’t take it out of his hand.  I’d have to do that on my own time.