Melting

Bob's parents were out of town this weekend, and with Bob out of town, too, it fell to me to help with their dog--they had enlisted a neighbor to let him out and feed him in the mornings, but we were taking care of him in the evenings. I went over last night, late, to let him out one more time, and decided to take him with me when I went across the street to get the mail.

I should have known better; he wasn't content with walking to the mailbox, he insisted on a real walk. Which was fine. He's a really sweet dog, a little terrier with a lot of personality. He pulled me along on his regular route, and I was glad to accompany him, but it meant that I was gone for about an hour. When I got back home, the cats were nowhere to be seen. I went looking for them, and found both of them on the bed.

They had apparently decided that I wasn't coming back, and that they might as well go to bed without me. They're in heaven with the electric blanket, especially Dinah. She is, I think, a little cold blooded--she likes to be under things, or on someone's lap, and unlike Pye, I think she does it as much for the warmth as the companionship. Pyewacket just wants to be cuddled, but she gets hot and has to escape and cool off. Dinah, on the other hand, wants to melt into the blanket.

I had lunch today at Sweet Tomatoes since I failed to have a proper dinner last night, and it reminded me of something that happened a week or so ago when I ate there. You may remember me writing about stopping there to pick up a salad to go, the clerk offering me a "bakery bag," and my accepting, thinking it was just a nice gesture, then finding out that she charged me $1.00 for the privilege of getting a stale piece of bread off the food bar side of the restaurant.

That still sort of irks me, but I dutifully say that I also need a bakery bag when I pick up a to-go salad, and at least I feel like I've been honest.

So this recent time, there was a woman in front of me with two boys. She was dressed nicely, fairly obviously having just left an office job (I say this to point out that she wasn't, at least to a casual eye, destitute in any way). She got up to the counter, being manned by the same clerk who had argued with me about paying the extra dollar for bread, and she said, "Two adults, and one child." The clerk looked surprised, and said, "Oh, surely that's one adult and two children." The woman said no, one of the boys was 13, and the clerk said, "Oh, well, you should lie!" and cheerfully rang up the lower price for the 13 year old as well as the younger boy.

There are several things wrong with this, obviously. For one, the boy was certainly embarrassed to be told that he looked younger than his years--at 13, who wouldn't be? Second, the woman was being honest, even though it cost her a few more dollars, and of course, that's what we're supposed to be, right? She was uncomfortable, and said, "Well, really, that's just teaching them to lie," but the clerk just waved her hand and said, "No big deal." I think she would have argued about it, but the clerk was so adamant that I'm sure she felt she really couldn't. I mean, really, who wants to call over a manager to argue that you're being undercharged?

So she paid the lower price and thanked the clerk, and they walked away. I would have liked to have eavesdropped on that table's conversation.

And, of course, it made me wonder what there was about me that made me so unworthy of getting a break.