...

LAST WEEK I TOOK A little trip. No, no, not the weekend trip to Hillmeadow...this one was to the grocery store. It was only a few items I was after, and one of them was apples. Wheeling my cart to the produce section, I picked up some organic ones that seemed frightfully expensive. But did I wish to ingest chemicals and spend my money on remedies for the possibly awful long-term health effects? Or...did I wish to spend more to protect my health and run the chance of outliving my monetary resources? Hmm. I looked around.

The sign hanging over the glossy Royal Galas was enticing...the special price being, uh, somewhere around a thirty percent reduction. (Only a rough approximation...So sorry to disappoint you, Mr. Flougher*) At any rate, it seemed a pretty good deal, so I tried to overlook the wax and the pesticides and sprang for a hand-filled bag of the shelf-preserved apples, meanwhile dreaming of my little orchard and its swelling buds.

At the check-out with my small load of mostly nutritious and healthful food, my diligently sought out non-high fructose corn syrup and non-hydrogenated oil and non-artificial colorings and flavorings and non-elevated-sodium items, I piled the groceries on the conveyor belt and rooted around for my gold card--the key to my apple discount--while emphatically saying, "Paper, please!" (I'd forgotten my nifty Trader Joe re-useable grocery bags, which are meant to live in the car and frequently be called into service, but which instead spend many of their days moving around my kitchen and trying to avoid being noticed after they've been emptied.)

"Here ya go, maam, have a nice day." I had swiped my card, and the clerk handed me my sales slip. I glanced at it to see my savings on the apples--how much to go toward health care costs? But...wait...I studied it closely... there wasn't any price reduction at all. What was the problem?

"The apples," I said. "There's no sale on the apples?"

"Service desk," the clerk responded, nodding her head in the proper direction, and the bagger added helpfully, "You'll have to go there for a refund."

I tried to do a quick calculation of the value of my time as I wheeled my cart to the service center counter, and fortunately, no one stood in line there, meaning this exercise in price adjustment would possibly be worthwhile. The friendly employee quickly strode to the apple bins when I told him how certain I was that the sign clearly stated a dollar twenty-nine per pound for these apples. Yes, he nodded. Sure enough. I'd been overcharged.

Back at the service counter, he doled out a surprising amount of cash.
"This can't be right," I said, somewhat puzzled. I'd forgotten the details on the total apple sale, but I knew without a doubt that the weight of eight or nine apples times a dollar seventy-nine per pound, minus the same weight at a dollar twenty-nine a pound certainly could not equal six dollars and ninety-one cents.

"Yes, it's right," the service center worker assured me. "If we make a mistake, you get all of it back...the whole price! That's our policy."

"Wow," I exclaimed, "Thank you."

I left the store feeling rather lucky. How often does one roll out of the grocery store with the food and its purchase price in cash?


That was my stroke of good luck for the day. And moments later, in the parking lot, the fates seemed a tiny bit miffed. They sent a bird to "rain" on my parade!




So here's my advice...Keep your eyes open. You never know which side of luck you may fall upon...or should I say...may fall upon you!

...