I stop at the grocery store after work today, determined not to spend too much money. The total bill comes to around $45. I check my wallet and decide that I should probably grab another $20. I'm going out after work tomorrow, and I want to make sure I have enough cash. After paying my bill and grabbing the extra money, I have $40 plus some ones in my wallet.
After throwing the groceries into the car (not really that strenuous since I only spent $45), I collect the empty beer bottles that have been rattling around in a bag in my car. After turning in fourteen empties, I grab another 12-pack. It's Thursday evening, and I figure my eldest will be stopping by after his train out of Boston while he waits for his wife to finish a class nearby and pick him up to go home. That's my excuse, anyway. Bottle return receipt in hand, I bring the beer to the front of the store. There's no line, but there is a young man at the registers, a clerk I haven't seen here before.
The total after the bottle return, comes to $11.90. Now, truth be told, sometimes I like to fuck with the cashiers' heads. My father taught me and my sister, at very young ages, how to make correct change, and we have always been math geeks. It doesn't take a rocket scientist, though, to figure out that if I give the kid $21.90, I can get $10 back. This, to me anyway, seems like simple, basic, un-fuck-able math. I pull out the crisp $20 I have just gotten at the grocery store, and seven quarters, a dime, and a nickel (that's an addition $1.90 plus the original $20, which equals $21.90).
When the clerk hands me money and says, "Ten dollars change," I am relieved. Either he is very bright, or the register has managed to help him calculate the correct change to give to me. As I start away from the counter, the kid holds a $20 bill out to me and says, "Here. This is yours."
At this point I open my wallet and count my bills. I have a few ones, plus I have the original $20 I had, $10 he handed back to me ... I am positive (aren't I?) that I only had $40 (and change) when I walked in to the liquor store. Now I have $30, which is what I should have after spending $10 of that $40 on beer.
The clerk and the woman wait for me to take the money. I slowly clutch at it, knowing I shouldn't take it. I really shouldn't. But maybe I screwed up. I'll figure it all out when I get to the car. And this is exactly what I do. I recount my money.
Nope. I swear I'm telling the truth here: I go into the packy with $40. I now have $50 in my wallet plus a full 12-pack of long-neck beer bottles after exiting the packy. Word problem!
It's this damn new math. You know, it's when I hand you $20 for an item and you hand me back $30 change plus that item then you get fired and I have to pay for you to collect so I lose that money I gained anyway. That new 20 - 10 + 20 + a 12 pack = someone's an idiot.
That math.
I don't know anymore, nor do I truly care. All I know is that it's flipping cold here, colder than a witch's teat, and I am not about to trek back into the store and risk severe hypothermia, $20 not withstanding.
That's my defense, your honor.
