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October 19, 2006
I'll Gladly Pay you in Two Minutes for a Five Dollar Bill Today
Since moving into my new apartment, I’ve been about as good about remembering things as Ronald Reagan was the year before he died (or during the final years of his administration for that matter!). On two recent occasions, I’ve left my place without bringing my wallet with me. In the four years of living at my other apartment, I never forgot my wallet. Not once. Maybe it's something in the air.
The most recent forgetful moment left me in a fairly precarious position at the post office on Saturday. I desperately needed to mail something to my landlord before the post office closed. Unfortunately, I didn’t realize I had forgotten my wallet until I was standing in line and heard the postman tell the woman behind me, “You are the last customer of the day. The post office is officially closed once you conduct your business. So, if people line up behind you, tell them that they’ll get as much help from me as Mark Foley will from the National Organization to Protect Children.”
When I realized my gaffe, I turned to the woman behind me, and, in an incredibly sheepish manner, asked if she would lend me five dollars. Much to my surprise, she readily agreed. (Part of me thinks she was relieved when she heard my request because when I turned to speak to her, she seemed more nervous than she would be if she bet her life savings on Gerald Ford still being alive when 2007 rolls around. For all I know, she might have expected me to ask her for a blow job or perhaps even a green card. (Apparently, both requests are quite common at post offices these days. At least, that’s what I’ve heard.))
As collateral for the loan, I could only offer my word, which usually isn’t exactly a valuable commodity with total strangers (unless you’re Scott Petersen and happen to meet a total stranger/slut commonly known as Amber Frey. Then your word is like an extra large bottle of K-Y Jelly, a winning lottery ticket, and a Shaq-sized member combined.).
In any event, I explained that I had five dollars in my car, but was fearful that if I went out to get it before I mailed my item, the postman would refuse to let me back in the joint. I insisted that as soon as I mailed my priority envelope, I would rush to my car, get the five dollars, and bring it back to her.
I am happy to inform you that as soon as I finished up with the postman, I raced to my car, got in, grabbed the five dollars from the glove department, and then sped away without paying the woman. It was quite simply the most productive trip I’ve ever made to a post office.
I know, I know. I should have paid her. That would have been the “right” thing to do. But friends, I was certain she was in this country illegally, so I was pretty confident she wouldn’t go to the police, and guess what, so far, so good! Plus, as an immigrant, she’s got to know that you should never trust strangers, right? Isn’t that what adults are always telling children? So I actually did her a favor in the long run.
Actually, I’m pleased to report that I paid her back immediately, and with interest too!
Anytime you go to a post office, convince a stranger to loan you money, and don’t end up getting shot by a postal employee, I’d say that’s a pretty good day.
In other news, there was a condom on the floor during my metro ride home last night. I tried to pick it up, but it kept slipping out of my hand.
I'll be here all week.
Comments
what a comic.
Posted by: sadielady at October 19, 2006 07:54 PM
I seduced my last boyfriend by using that line in your title (a variation of it, anyway).
Once I did actually take $5 from a customer at a convenience store in Georgetown to bribe the manager of the store to let me and my car out of a private parking lot I had accidentally parked in. I promised I would mail it to him, but I lost his address and have always felt awful about it.
Posted by: meg at October 20, 2006 10:06 AM
One time, out in the wild wild west, (ok, Idaho) from whence my husband comes, when my mother-in-law's car died on the way to the airport, this lady (a stranger) who worked at the convenience store where it died lent us her *car*. I kid you not. That would NEVER have happened here in NY.
Then again, on that same trip, we almost re-created that scene from Deliverance when two toothless-hicks-with-mullets-and-neo-nazi-prison-
tattoos-who-hate-people-who-look-like-me-and-have gun-racks-in-their-cars-and-smell-like-beer-and-
liquor-at-11-in-the-morning came across us when my husband's dad's car died.
So, I suppose it all balances out.
And, as an addendum, my in-laws each bought new cars shortly thereafter. Not soon enough, in my opinion.
True story. I swear.
Posted by: Nicole Black at October 21, 2006 09:44 AM
