I didn’t eat out too often as a kid, but when I did, you can bet I almost always enjoyed it.
I remember Dad always used to joke that he didn’t have enough money to pay the restaurant bill. “Well, it looks like they’re going to make us go into the kitchen and wash dishes,” he’d say with a wry smile.
Hey, that always made sense to me.
Fast forward to last week. After ordering up a grilled cheese & tomato sandwich, French fries, a big chocolate chip cookie, and a small Coke in the company cafeteria I moseyed over to the checkout counter with my tray full of food.
“Six-fifteen, Hon,” said the cashier.
So I reached into my pocket to get my wallet and … uh-oh. It wasn’t there!
Now if you’ve been in this predicament before, you know the feeling. In my case, I ended up experiencing the five stages of grief in exactly 10.7 seconds:
Denial: Wait a minute, I never forget my wallet.
Anger: What?! Six dollars plus for this lunch? I knew I should have gone to Sizzler!
Bargaining: Dear God: I’m now going to slowly reach down and check my left shoe. If you would kindly perform a little miracle for me — just this once — I promise … Nope.
Depression: I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before I have to start wearing Depends too.
Acceptance: Well, maybe washing dishes won’t be as bad as I thought. (I just hope the diners ignored the Stroganoff today.)
After accepting my inglorious fate, I made my biggest puppy dog eyes and looked up at the cashier. “I’m very sorry, Dorothy,” I said, “But I, uh, forgot my wallet at home today. I’ll be happy to wash dishes if you just let me eat my lunch.”
Actually, my dish-washing proposal was a weak attempt at making light of a bad situation. I really wasn’t happy about the prospect of washing oodles of noodles and other gravy goop off of the cafeteria plates and trays. Then again, what else was I going to do?
In the back of my mind I quickly ran down a list of other potential fates waiting for me aside from washing dishes. Dorothy could challenge me to play a game of Are You Smarter Than a 5th Grader? by making me recite my credit card number from memory. Of course, that wouldn’t be so bad if my credit card number was 6, but it’s not. She could also call the cops or, even worse, get a couple of her fry cooks to drag me into the back room and beat me like a 5-egg frittata.
Needless to say, the uncertainty of what was to come made me more than a bit uncomfortable.
After my little remark about washing dishes, Dorothy quickly tipped her eyeglasses down her nose, staring at me over the rim. Uh oh; here it comes.
“You forgot your wallet?” she asked with a poker face that would have intimidated Wild Bill Hickok.
I was going to give her a long-drawn out explanation as to how I could be so stupid to forget my wallet at home, but all I could muster was a pathetic nod.
“It’s okay, Hon,” she said with a laugh. “Can you remember to come back tomorrow and pay?”
Really? I was so relieved I wanted to kiss her, but I just gave her another nod and a big smile before thanking her for being so understanding.
“Enjoy your lunch, Hon,” she replied matter-of-factly. And with that, Dorothy moved on to the next customer.
Photo Credit: Falashad
Years ago, I forgot my wallet on a $1.25 tea bill. I promised to come back tomorrow, and the the manager just laughed and said “Forget it, it’s not even two bucks.”
Oops. I never forgot again!
It’s a sick feeling, isn’t it, Jenny?
Living in a small town while getting old has some advantages.
All the local folks have somebody in the family who’s getting age-related memory lapses and they know each of us well enough to know how to deal with situations we present. This blog is for financially responsible individuals. Well, our townspeople know which oldsters are that.
So, I absentmindedly drove off from a self service gasoline pump without sticking my credit card into the pump. When I “came to” I went back and started to apologize – almost before I could get started: “Oh, I knew you’d be back, honey.”
Out here in California the gas pumps won’t turn on until you run your credit card through them. There are just too many people out here who can’t be trusted to fill ‘er up and then pay for what was taken. Sad.
This is a great story on the generosity and trusting most people have in one another. I was working as a waiter while in college and “bucked” up for an elderly couple who ate more than the money they had on them. I didn’t think twice about it. The next day my manager handed me an envelope with a hundred dollar bill in it and a nice note from the couple. I even got a nickle raise because of that kind act.
Great story, Christopher! I’m glad you enjoyed the article.