Red Touches Yellow...
This morning I was accosted by a strange woman walking the streets, ruined my pants and spent fifty dollars.
It's not as bad as it sounds, I promise.
I was going though the drive-through to pick up some breakfast when a woman approached the passenger door. I rolled down the window partway and she asked if she could get a ride to West Street, which is probably half a mile down the road. Not wanting to get a knife in my gut or a venereal disease, I lied and told her that I was heading in the other direction. But since I'm a sucker, I gave her a twenty, which she promptly took and ran to the nearest gas station.
As luck would have it, I had to go to the gas station, so I ended up inadvertently following her. I must admit, I was curious as to how she would use the money. She bought some coffee and whatnot and thanked me again before leaving, letting me know that she had found another ride to West Street. The cashier responded to this by looking at me strangely while ringing up my purchase. I explained what happened and she responded by asking if she could have my change from the transaction. To repeat- the cashier asked if she could have my change from the transaction. Needless to say, I was dumbfounded. I said, "Seriously?" and then looked around as if I were on Candid Camera. I was so flabbergasted I agreed, and even though it was only two dollars, the whole principle of a cashier having the audacity to ask astounds me.
I don't mind giving people money- especially when they don't ask for it. I've had homeless people come up and ask quite politely for any pocket change. Usually, if they ask with any sort of decency, I give a ten or twenty. I'm not so poor that I have to count every dollar (although I'm close), but ten dollars to some people means a lot more than it does to me. I get that. But when the employee of an establishment asks for the change, that behavior is so revolting to so many different societal standards I don't even know where to begin. If Henry Ford were alive, I wouldn't be surprised if he didn't throttle her on the spot.
After that fiasco, I decided to eat my breakfast. Unfortunately, the whole thing fell in my lap, and I had to go to Wal-Mart to buy a new pair of pants and a shirt. In all, I paid $30.17, I think. Unfortunately, the dressing rooms weren't open, so the pair of pants I bought were a little too small. So I improvised. I cut slits in the waist with a pair of scissors and then taped the sides together.
My grandfather used to have a saying that described my family's luck. He called it "snakebit."
I think I'm starting to see what he meant.
It's not as bad as it sounds, I promise.
I was going though the drive-through to pick up some breakfast when a woman approached the passenger door. I rolled down the window partway and she asked if she could get a ride to West Street, which is probably half a mile down the road. Not wanting to get a knife in my gut or a venereal disease, I lied and told her that I was heading in the other direction. But since I'm a sucker, I gave her a twenty, which she promptly took and ran to the nearest gas station.
As luck would have it, I had to go to the gas station, so I ended up inadvertently following her. I must admit, I was curious as to how she would use the money. She bought some coffee and whatnot and thanked me again before leaving, letting me know that she had found another ride to West Street. The cashier responded to this by looking at me strangely while ringing up my purchase. I explained what happened and she responded by asking if she could have my change from the transaction. To repeat- the cashier asked if she could have my change from the transaction. Needless to say, I was dumbfounded. I said, "Seriously?" and then looked around as if I were on Candid Camera. I was so flabbergasted I agreed, and even though it was only two dollars, the whole principle of a cashier having the audacity to ask astounds me.
I don't mind giving people money- especially when they don't ask for it. I've had homeless people come up and ask quite politely for any pocket change. Usually, if they ask with any sort of decency, I give a ten or twenty. I'm not so poor that I have to count every dollar (although I'm close), but ten dollars to some people means a lot more than it does to me. I get that. But when the employee of an establishment asks for the change, that behavior is so revolting to so many different societal standards I don't even know where to begin. If Henry Ford were alive, I wouldn't be surprised if he didn't throttle her on the spot.
After that fiasco, I decided to eat my breakfast. Unfortunately, the whole thing fell in my lap, and I had to go to Wal-Mart to buy a new pair of pants and a shirt. In all, I paid $30.17, I think. Unfortunately, the dressing rooms weren't open, so the pair of pants I bought were a little too small. So I improvised. I cut slits in the waist with a pair of scissors and then taped the sides together.
My grandfather used to have a saying that described my family's luck. He called it "snakebit."
I think I'm starting to see what he meant.
posted by Yorick at 9:41 AM
2 Comments:
Your wife should consider removing your name from the checking account. She should fill up your gas tank for you and give you only five dollars a day to eat lunch with. You both would save a lot of money that way.
While I appreciate your comment, you make several invalid assumptions.
1) That we have a checking account. (We don't.)
2) That we have two cars. (We don't.)
3) That we want a lot of money. (We don't.)
As of right now, we've moved to a total cash system- if we don't have the money for it, we don't buy it. It's working well.
Look over the blog in its entirety and I think you'll find the overall theme is one of choosing truth over cash; spirit over currency.
When I referred to myself as "snakebit", I did so tongue in cheek. The mention of money only served to make the first line somewhat humorous. The point of the post was to bemoan my bad sense of luck, not the money I had spent. I needed new clothes anyway.
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