I stood in a long line holding two cards and a box of chocolates. I daydreamed, hearing “Let My Shoppers Go!” from the promise land somewhere in my head. You know that place, where milk and honey and freedom from retail are the norm, and Earth Day is the only holiday allowed.
I came out of my delusion and saw there was just one other poor sap standing between the woman behind the counter and me.
The woman seemed new to this store, but obviously had retail experience from somewhere in her past. Nevertheless she turned to her younger colleague to ask a question about a gift card poor sap in front of me was trying to use to pay for his own choices of chocolates and cards.
It seemed he had a balance left on his card, but not enough to pay for what he had stacked on the counter.
“How much do I have,” poor sap asked, feeling the restlessness of impatience building behind him.
“You’ll have to call the number on the back of the card to see,” came the firm reply from the more youthful clerk, who was busy with a swarm of her own buyers.
I remembered a similar thing happening to me recently when I took my daughter out for a sushi lunch (her choice). When we finished I gave the $25.00 American Express gift card to the woman at the register to pay for the $20.00 lunch. I told her to give whatever was left over to our waitress for a tip. She swiped the card and in a moment turned to me with a smile and said, “Card denied.”
I said that was weird and asked her to try it again.
She did, but again came back with, “Card denied.” And this time she added, “You pay cash.” And her smile was now gone.
I did as she told me and we left. An hour later I was starving.
When I called the number on the back of my card to see what was up, the nice lady informed me a purchase for around $19 had been made at Barnes and Noble back in May, and that I had a balance of a little over five dollars remaining on the card. I believed her, what else was I going to do?
A few days later I used the card at Hardees, purchasing a breakfast burrito and a sausage biscuit. It was less than five bucks and I wasn’t hungry an hour later.
Back at the store, poor sap had his cell phone out and had moved to the side, letting the flow of commerce role on and fuel the nation’s GNP. The woman behind the counter looked up at me, which I took as my cue that I was next.
Thankful I didn’t have a gift card I dug some crumpled currency out of my pocket when she gave me my total. Seconds later I was moving through the store’s crowd and back out into the circulation of the mall’s main arteries.
After one more brief flirtation with spending money I thankfully headed back towards the parking lot. As I walked up the stairs a familiar figure came down towards me. It was the poor sap. He was noticeably empty-handed, and looked to be muttering something to himself. We passed and I felt like patting him on the back, or something that would bring some consolation for his failed mission. But we passed without contact, his blank stare focused on the steps in front of him, and me relieved not to have been him.