Tuesday, December 10, 2019

Val Makes an Uncharacteristic 44 oz Diet Coke Faux Pas

Has Val lost her marbles? Is she one sandwich short of a picnic? Is her porch light on, but nobody's home? Does her elevator not go all the way to the top? Is she no longer the sharpest tool in the themed shed Hick will eventually build for a workshop?

The most horrendous thing happened Friday at The Gas Station Chicken Store! I had finished my errands of post office/bank/gas for T-hoe, and made the final stop for my 44 oz Diet Coke. I virtually skipped across the parking lot, heady with anticipation for drawing my magical elixir. If, by skipped, you count a slow limp, kind of dragging one leg behind, while flapping an arm for balance.

After a taste of the product to make sure it was not actually REAL COKE, like that one time a new employee had hooked up the wrong hoses, I put the lid on my foam cup, and bellied up to the counter to pay. I handed the Nice Guy Clerk two scratcher winners, trading them for a two more tickets. We made chitchat.

As he pushed my new scratchers across the glass counter top, having traded them even for the winners, I reached into my shirt pocket for the dollar to pay for my 44 oz Diet Coke. That's when I realized that my right hand was empty! The hand that I use to carry in my

EXACT CHANGE!

Oh, no! I had the dollar, but I didn't have the 69 cents! The price of a 44 oz Diet Coke at The Gas Station Chicken Store is $1.69. I didn't have enough money!

I could have put back a scratcher. But that's not how Val operates. Good thing I didn't, because one was the $100 winner I showed you Saturday, and the other won $40.

"Oh, no! I left my change in the car! Can I go out and get it? I'll bring it right back!"

Nice Guy Clerk agreed. "Sure. I think you're good for it."

Seriously. I'm only in there EVERY DAY, for the past 3.5 years, buying a 44 oz Diet Coke. Yes, I could have left my stuff on the counter, until I returned with the money. But neither one of us thought of that. I carried out my merchandise like I owned it, and returned with 69 cents.

There are perks to being a small-town celebrity.

8 comments:

  1. I don't think your slow limp, kind of dragging one leg behind, while flapping an arm for balance gait would allow for a fast get-away, but it is nice to be trusted.

    I would't want the dead mouse smelling post office to have your picture on the wall "Wanted for .69 Theft!"

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    1. The dead mouse smelling post office wouldn't raise a stink (heh, heh, see what I did there?) but the Gas Station Chicken Store regularly has pictures of alleged perpetrators posted on the wall!

      Even if I made it to T-Hoe, it takes me so long to climb in that Nice Guy Clerk could have been there before I closed the (bloodthirsty) door, dragging me out by my limping leg.

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  2. Every day, 44 oz.Coke? My goodness! There are perks living in a small town. I knew them at one time.

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    1. That is DIET Coke, ma'am! Not as filling as The Real Thing.

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  3. I knew he would let you, maybe even have said bring it next time you come in. Small town people who know you well are like that. At least you didn't get all the way around a supermarket and then find you left your money at home. I did that once. And never again.

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    1. Oh my gosh! One time I was checking out at Walmart, and reached into my shirt pocket for my debit card...which I had LEFT IN T-HOE! Thank goodness The Pony was still living at home, and was my regular shopping companion.

      The Pony was sitting on a bench, playing with his phone. I yelled at him to get the keys and run out for my checkbook. He was back in a jiffy. I'm sure it was an eternity for the customers behind me.

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  4. That is some gait, my friend. Wow 1.69 for a 44 oz diet coke. They are only .99 here so we can drink way to many. Nice clerk. I think he did not want to watch you flap to the car.

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    1. I can get a 44 oz Diet Coke at Orb K for .93, but you know how each soda fountain has a little different flavor. I prefer the Diet Coke at the Gas Station Chicken Store. My mom liked McDonald's, which to me tasted like it had been sitting at the drive-thru, a mistake, waiting for the next person who ordered a Diet Coke. All watery, no bite.

      I'm pretty sure you're right that the clerk didn't want to supervise my progress. Just in case I dropped a scratcher, and he was exposed to the sight of my ample rumpus.

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