Tomorrow I go in to get my new and improved Very Expensive Tire. I assume everyone is sitting on the edge of their seats, hoping for up to the minute updates on that affair, assuming, of course, that they're not dozing off, battling the extreme insomnia brought on by extreme mental anguish at my tire-related plights.
A few Sundays ago I was in my local grocery store, standing behind a tiny, neatly-dressed grandma who was buying supplies for what looked like a festive Palm Sunday meal, her granddaughter putting the food into plastic bags at the end of the counter. The cashier rang up the total and grandma put down a few twenties, then counted out a stack of ones. I could hear the cashier tell her that she was a little short. Grandma shook her head no, hands out, palms up: that's all I have. The cashier gently asked her to start taking items off until she was within the amount she had provided.
I leaned in: "How much does she owe?"
$7.80.
"OK," I said. "I've got it."
The cashier interrupted grandma as she was sorting her purchases and told her that "this gentlemen is going to take care of the extra." Grandma looked a bit confused as the cashier handed her a receipt. The granddaughter whispered a thank you and the two left the store. Nothing from grandma who may have been too proud to say anything, may have refused the money if I had offered it directly to her.
My hope is that this makes the front page of the local newspaper: "The Incredible Largess of an Incredible Man!" or some such shit. I mean: what a guy, right?
I assume you know how much peace of mind that $7.81 bought me.
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