Clever Bastard Redux (Or: How I Learned To Stop Worrying and Love Righteous Indignation)
In my entry of January 20, 2005, I explained that a Chinese-food delivery man had constructed and carried out a vicious, magical scheme to steal a dollar from both me and my roommate on consecutive nights.
What would happen if you ever saw him again? What are the odds of that? Would you call him on it?
Last night I got the second chance that most people don’t get in life.
The Uppity Guy from [one particular delivery place] came back.
My roommate was still at school when I texted him to see if he wanted any food. He ordered a full meal himself, appetizer and all, as I did, so the smallish amount of cash in my wallet would become an issue (my ego wrote the check yada yada yada).
Fifteen minutes later I heard my buzzer, “Delivery!” I beeped him in.
I’d done the math in my head just after ordering, and figured the bill would be around $30. I had $26 cash. So I fished through my change cup and procured the five Sacajawea dollars I got as punishment for using cash to buy a train ticket that one time. I thought, “Is $31 enough?” I also dug around for six quarters. $32.50. Sounded okay.
There was a knock at the door, and I opened it, right after I put the money on the table in the living room. To my delight, it was the SAME GUY.
Fool me once…shame on…shame on you. If you fool….me–can’t fool me again.
Happy-anxious, I took the food and put it down. The bill was $29.20, about what I expected. Money in hand, I apologized (as I would have to any delivery person) about having to pay at least a portion of it in coinage. Uppity ended up taking the money, but he had a sad look on his face – more sad than confused, which I would have been as well – that I hopefully thought was less about the fact that I paid in coins, whose amount he checked carefully, than it was a sign of absolute disappointment in my sort-of unintentional but happily conceived pre-emptive counterstrike.
You screw with the bull–
