Order of Turkey

It was just a normal Sunday afternoon where I could be found lounging on my bed reading a book, when Abby and I decided to do something with our lives and go to the grocery store! We realized that the supermercato closes early on Sunday and we had about 30 minutes until closing time, but we were so desperate for food that this trip was a necessity. Abby and I strap on our backpacks (because we don't want to pay for the 9 cent plastic bag) and rush out the door. The majority of the walk to the supermercato is uphill but we are in such a hurry that we have to start running. Our backpacks are flopping all over the place because they are empty and I'm sure all the locals got a kick out of watching us. We definitely can't hide our American roots during times like these. So we finally reach the store totally out of breath and sweaty, but it's still open for business! I soon decide that I'd really like some lunch meat for this week, turkey to be specific. All the previous visits I had been too nervous the buy meat because I would have to talk to the guy working, and I knew that would result in some embarrassing way. I push my nerves aside and confidently try to say I'd like some sliced turkey in Italian. The man looks at me with a confused face so I repeat my request...but it only seems to be making things worse. He talks to the other workers and in conversation I hear the word Americana but nothing else. Finally with the help of another lady I realize that I was asking for "tabacchi" which is the Italian word for a small store that sells bus tickets and phone cards. I meant to ask for "tacchino" which is the correct word for turkey. After the man laughs at me for awhile, he hands me the sliced turkey. So much for not wanting to embarrass myself. Note to self: Avoid future humiliation and don't ask the butcher for a small convenient store.