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THE OTHER NIGHT
I think I may have stumbled into the Twilight Zone through some
mysterious portal at my local convenience store. Here’s what happened:
I’d
driven to Hardee’s and ordered a chicken sandwich. Not wanting to pay
$10+ for a combo meal, I figured I’d just get the sandwich and swing by a
local convenience store where I knew a 12-oz can of Pepsi went for a
buck.
At
the convenience store, I scanned the cooler where they usually kept the
99-cent cans of Pepsi, but they were gone – replaced by rows of energy
drinks. No problem; I just headed over to the main coolers where I
spotted some 16-oz cans of ‘wild cherry’ Pepsi for $1.29. That was fine,
so I grabbed a can and headed for the counter.
A 20-something young lady –
tattooed with a pierced tongue – rang me up. I gave her two ones, and
she handed me a handful of change. I was in a bit of a hurry and
somewhat preoccupied, but I did snap out of my reverie when she said
something about the total being a dollar-sixty something.
As
I pocketed my change, my math-challenged brain signaled me: “Hmmmm . . .
the deposit and sales tax on $1.29 certainly isn’t forty-some cents –
do they even tax pop?”
“Excuse me, but I think this pop was marked $1.29 at the cooler.”
Without
a word, she sullenly marched over to the cooler where there were two,
yellow $1.29 tags prominently displayed on the top shelf of Pepsi.
She promptly peeled the two tags off and marched back to the register. I followed.
“Give me your change back” she muttered.
What?
“I need your change back in order to refund the difference.”
Huh??!!
I said, “Why do you need my change? I don’t even remember how much change you gave me.”
“Didn’t you pay attention to how much change I gave you?!”
As
she smugly lectured me, I could see that silver post flashing as her
tongue flapped. My blood pressure started to rise, “No. Maybe if you would have counted out the change, I might have remembered!”
“I need the change back, or my drawer won’t come out right!”
“Why do I need to give you any change back? All you need to do is refund me the difference between what you rang up and $1.29!”
“Can’t do that. My drawer won’t come out right!”
I stood there silent for a moment and then started to chuckle, “You’re kidding me!”
Indignant
she suddenly put one hand on her hip, and with the other hand – pointed
to the door. “Leave, if you’re going to make fun of me!!”
“I’m not making fun of you. I simply can’t believe you’re making this so complicated!”
By
this time I happened to notice an elderly man standing quietly behind
me while the clerk and I went back and forth over a lousy 20 or 30
cents. Seeing him waiting there patiently kind of jolted me back to
reality.
Exasperated,
I cut our discussion short and headed towards the exit. Just as I
pushed open the door, the clerk quizzically called out, “Don’t you want
your 20 cents?”
To quote Woody Allen after an unsettling encounter with Christopher Walken in Annie Hall:
“Right . . . Well, I have to go now . . . because I’m due back on the planet Earth.”
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