I'm going to the commissary. Who's coming with me?

I went to the mailroom today and I ran into the supervisor who asked me, "Hey, did you get your package?" I was like, "I'm just coming to get them." and he said "The one that went missing, I think it's here." (We had a package just disappear and Dylan had been hounding this guy. As an aside, I SO want his job!:)

So I go to the window and talk to the Polish guy behind the counter. It went something like this:

Him: "Prosze." (Basically "May I help you?")
Me (in English): "There's a package for me. Hrncir (phoentically Hern Sir, you know you were wondering;)
Him (after checking the packages): "No."
Me: "W. told me there was a package."
Him (checking again): "No, sorry."
Me (looking over at the packages, recognizing a company that I ordered from): "What about that white package over there."
Him: "No, that's for Hern Cheer."
Me: "Yeah, that's me." giggling "Sorry, I mispronounced my name."
Him (laughing): "Prosze bardzo, Do widzenia." (You're very welcome. See you later.)

The joke in this is that because it is a Czech last name (another Slavic language) he is actually pronouncing it correctly. But because it's my husband's name and his family is from the States, we pronounce it differently.

So Pamela's confirmation dress came. We need to do some altering (take in the bodice a bit and shorten it to about mid calf) but here's the "before" picture.
Oh, and don't worry, I won't actually ban the girl who set off my alarm from my house:). I still find it amusing to imagine her face when that alarm went off.

*edited to correct spelling.