Yes, you. The one who insisted upon looking over my shoulder in the Wal-Mart check out line while I paid my bill.
That is rude.
I don't give one single hoot that you are probably not from America, and I gathered this from the gibberish you were speaking to the gentleman whom I assumed was your husband. At least he had the decency to stand behind his cart and not on top of my heels. But then again, for all I know your gibberish speak was you giving him my credit card numbers.
Thanks a lot, now I'm paranoid.
I'll give you a piece of advice. Here in America, we do. not. appreciate it when you enter our personal bubbles.
Should I encounter you again in this same situation, forgive me if I gouge your eyes out with a rusty fork.
Yes, I enjoy my personal space and credit card information that much.
Consider yourself both educated on the subject and warned.