Here's a little thing I came across the other day. What's Your Smurf Name? What do you think my smurf name is? Go ahead, take a guess.
My smurf name is, quite fittingly, Heterosexual Smurf! As oxymoronish as that might sound. Can you believe it? Now I'm not the most introspective person on the planet, but if I were to describe myself, that'd be a good place to start. It was too perfect not to share. Other guesses that would have been accepted include Bachelor Smurf, Germophobic Smurf, Blogger Smurf, and Non-Confrontational Smurf. And that is where today's story finds us. The non-confrontational bachelor gets short-changed.
I was at a drive-in restaurant yesterday, which shall remain anonymous, but whose name rhymes with tonic. My order of a cheeseburger, tator tots, and coconut creme pie shake came to $5.56. I chose to pay by the old fashioned method of cash. Greenbacks. Jack. Filthy lucre, if you will.
So when the carhop arrived with my food, I handed her a watermarked photo of my good friend Andrew Jackson, aka Old Hickory. In return, she gives me a ten, three ones, and some change...
Having been short-changed a dollar, I pondered my next move. I recalculated in my head to make sure I had figured correctly. I had. What should I do? It's only a dollar. Obviously it's not a financial hardship issue but the principle of the thing. I sit there for a moment, hoping she'll realize her "mistake" and run back out with my money. She doesn't.
Checking for a receipt, I find none. Very shrewd. Maybe she had this planned all along. Maybe this is a scam she pulls on everyone. Two hundred cars a day, a dollar a car. She'd be pulling tips that would make a Hooters waitress jealous. Not that I know anything about that, nor have I ever contributed to the financial well-being of a Hooters waitress and/or her children.
Oddly, BE had called me just a couple of days before and told me she was shorted $14 at a fast food place. I encouraged her to go back. She did and they had the money set aside waiting for her. The other thing is, if the carhop had given me back too much change, I would have pushed the button and given back the money, no doubt. But somehow its different when I'm the one being shorted.
So there I sit. Can I really do this? Can I really push that button for one dollar? Of course not! I'm non-confrontational Bone. So I let it go. I probably wouldn't have said anything if it had been ten dollars or twenty dollars. Just as long as I don't have to face that scene and confront anyone and take the chance that they might not like me.
So what do I do? There are six trillion people in the world. I can't just let all of them go around shorting me a dollar. That could significantly cut into my
It's one of those seemingly insignificant situations in life for which there are no rules or instructions or manuals. What do you do? Do you go back for one dollar? What about two? Or five? Or ten? Where do you draw the line?
It's these little everyday distractions in life that keep me from being productive. And working on my bladder system. For oil tankers.
"Go with the flow. It is said, if you can't move to this then you probably are dead..."