Whata Weekend Willy Man

I bought a coconut bird this weekend.
It's a chime, let's call it an Eegret,
even though I deperately want to call it an Ibis of some sorts.
The long neck and pointed head are both suspended above the body
of the coconut
by a string/wire and stone in the back.
The chimes are of wood and ring a nice hollow sound.

I hung it from the ceiling by a hook
in the corner of the living room.
I dare say it will never truely chime on it's own.
It might take a broom handle for me to reach it.

Yet, what is so very bothersome about the whole coconut bird affair
is the assuming nature of the young cheeky chashier:

"Did you find everything you needed?" He scanned the scone mix before the bird.
When he did pick up the large contraption, one eyebrow arched.

"Why yes I did." I cooly replied. Eyes slanted. "Especially this bird.
It's rather nice; wouldn't you agree?"

He looked for the barcode to scan and tried to stiffle a grin.
"I imagine it will be great this time of year."

"I find it wonderful--the things they can make from--coconuts."
I was staring at him full in the face.

He fixed his gaze upon the cash registrar.
"Sure will be nice to hang chimes from, er,
your bedroom window soon, I suppose."

My own eyebrows furrowed with [mock] indignation.
"Well it certainly isn't for me!" I exclaimed.
"What would I ever do with a coconut bird!
It isn't my bird, you know." I was much chagrined.
I pretended to look steadily away.

Why would anyone make such assumptions about my person?
I am considering making SQMojo business cards
to hand out on such awkward occasions.