My Day Off
Earlier today, I endeavored to purchase a gallon of 1% milk and Band-Aid brand bandages. The owner of the local convenience store where this transaction took place was not big into customer service. She mistakenly charged me $3.99 for the Band-Aids, ignoring the $2.99 sticker price. When I questioned her math and reading skills, she phoned her husband. Actually, she could have been calling anyone. Or no one.
The verdict was this: I would pay the higher price, but she would print me a new receipt. A receipt that indicated I paid regular price. For my records. We fought briefly over my almighty dollar and her baffling resolution, but I flinched first. I crumpled up that piece of paper and tossed it on the ground, a move of defiance that looked less like protest than litter.
All afternoon this plagued me, the way stupid stuff does. But then an amazing thing happened. Doing my Sunday laundry a day late, I found a faded $1 bill trapped with the lint. Balance has been restored to my universe.