Chaos at the Checkout

Why is it that when I check out at the supermarket I find it necessary to watch the cashier like a hawk as he rings up the prices? Expecting, even hoping there will a mistake for me to correct. Today it seemed to me the checker didn't credit me for a 2 for 1 bag-o-salad. However, when I got ready to leave the store I realized I didn't have a final cash register receipt to prove it. I asked the cashier where it was. He couldn't find it. I persisted. "Maybe you threw it in the trash," I suggested. He rolled his eyes.

My daughter-in-law Carole wanted me to forget it. (She's a MinneDak farm girl who will go to almost any length to avoid offending anyone---or holding up the check-out line.) "Ma!" she hissed. "Do you have to be so obvious?"
Yes, as a matter of fact I did---it was my money.

I could see there was going to be a conflict. I told Carole to sit down by the door and wait for me. I trotted to the Service Desk and told my story to the 3 clerks behind the counter. I was very careful to repeat my story word-for-word. At the end of my story the clerks looked at each other like I'd been speaking a foreign language. They told me to wait and went to get the manager.

The manager came out and listened to my story---which I was once again careful to repeat with complete accuracy. His eyes glazed over and he disappeared muttering, "I'll have to look it up." He wasn't gone for more than a moment and when he came back he handed me my money. I smiled and turned to leave the store---$3.76 richer.

Carole got up and walked over to me. Shaking her head she leaned down and whispered, "Nice going, Mom. I'll meet you in the parking lot."