Undaunted

Humiliation follows me like a hungry, lost puppy. It’s Friday afternoon on the day after Thanksgiving. Yes, black Friday. I am NOT a black Friday shopper. The crowds and lines make my head hurt just thinking about it. I am more of a Cyber Monday kind of gal. Let them deliver the goods to me. But, I digress…Where was I? Oh yes, black Friday.

My husband works swing shift and worked from 7 PM to 7 AM Thanksgiving Day. So I made the rounds with the girls to the various family Thanksgiving feasts by myself. I really didn’t mind. It’s not his fault he had to work and in fact I know he would have rathered made the rounds with us, but still…I’m tired and I just want to veg a little. Which takes me back to black Friday. #1. My husband is sleeping upstairs. #2 He is a light sleeper. #3 He gets angry when people (i.e. two children) make noise and wake him up. #4 He blames me if #3 happens. #5 The kids are getting antsy and getting harder to keep quiet.

So I am forced to take the girls out and about on this most horrible of horrible retail days. I vow not to go into a store and most certainly not into Walmart. We’ll just grab a bite to eat and hang out a bit. Unfortunately one daughter wants McDonald’s and the other Subway. I am really not in the mood. So we compromise. We’ll go through the drive through at McDonald’s and then go to Subway where my oldest daughter and I can get something slightly healthier and all eat together. A brilliant plan.

Now comes the humiliating part…I am in the drive though lane. I’ve ordered the happy meal -a hamburger, no pickles, fries and chocolate milk. But no, they are out of chocolate milk and she has to have root beer instead. The kids are still arguing about something and I try to block them out as I inch ahead in line.

I am finally at the food window. I hand the girl my debit card. She looks at me a little strangely. And asks me, “Did you already pay back there? At the first window?”

I have no recollection. “No, I don’t think so,” I reply. At least I’m honest I think.

“Are you sure?” she asks. “It’s coming up paid. ”

‘That’s weird, I don’t remember stopping at the first window. I’m sorry if I messed up” I tell her.

“No problem,” she continues. She hands my card over to her manager and she runs back to the first window to see what happened. The first girl gives me our order and I pass it on back to the girls and wait to get my card back. I glance back in my rear view mirror. I feel bad I’m holding up the line. As I wait, I notice a piece of white paper lying on top of my open purse sitting between the two front seats. Can guess what it was? You got it, it was a receipt for my happy meal. I knock on the window to get the girl’s attention.

She opens the window. I smile brightly. “I actually did already pay,” I tell her and show her my receipt. She is very gracious. The other woman has just returned and gives me back my card. I am mortified!

And yet I am sharing this story for all the world to read if they so chose. Why? I don’t know. It is kind of funny. And no, I’m not going senile. (At least I hope not). However, when I can’t remember what I did two minutes before, I may need to slow down a little and take time to pay attention to the little things. Now, I just need to put the “slow down,” plan into action, which I will promptly do once, I have some extra time to figure out what that “slow down” plan is.

Do you think Santa would bring a couple of extra hours a day for Christmas?