It’s not about the five cents
I made my usual Sunday morning run to pick up a paper for Ms. Flagg. Having grabbed $2.20 from the dresser, I picked up the paper and elected to use the self-service checkout.
I scanned the paper which rang up at $2.12. I put in my money and out came three cents. Now anyone with a basic understanding of math would realise that I was shorted a nickel. I double checked the change cup and my pocket to see if I had missed it. Nope. I just had three cents change.
So I made me way to the one employee who oversaw the four U-Scan it terminals and said, I was shorted five cents. Apparently I was an interruption to her day and her conversation with her friend that she merely rolled her eyes and said it was just a nickel. I know my hair was unkempt and I hadn’t yet showered, but I took this as an afront.
With no manner of forethought I began spouting numbers like an idiot savant (those who know me know I doth sucketh at math):
“Wait a minute, it is more than a nickel,” I began. “Let’s say there are 20 people a day who go through here and pay with cash. That represents one dollar. There are four terminals here which means over a course of one day there are four dollars that are shorted from people’s change.
“Take a month and that becomes $120, a year becomes $1440, so unless you are willing to have $1440 taken from you, I suggest you spit that gum out of your mouth and get me my nickel!”
I was too tired and in too much of a hurry to get the manager. I had left bacon cooking on the stove back home, but that is a story for another day.
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