My Witt's End

Easy Come--Easy Go

I stopped at our local discount market to pick up a couple items this afternoon. I won't mention the name of this place, I'd prefer to protect the guilty. To give you a clue, the owner of this local chain of stores was once quoted in a news story that he paid the lowest wages in town because the people he hired were not all that bright.

Anyway, since I had only two items I got into the express lane behind a woman who had a few more than two. The clerk rang up the woman's items and, as the woman passed the young lady behind the counter her money, the clerk's cell phone chirped and the kid looked down to see the latest news flash from one of her friends. In doing so she did not have a firm grip on the customer's $20 bill and the bill fluttered to the moving belt conveyor and zipped into the space at the end of the conveyor--the black hole of retail shopping stores.

The clerk, without missing a beat said to the customer, "Have you got another one of those?"

The customer, and me, were looking at where the first $20 bill had disappeared. The customer, a bit flabbergasted, said, "Ah, yeah. But what about that one?" pointing to the still moving belt conveyor.

The clerk, after texting her friend, said, "Oh, they'll find it when they clean that thing out."

This incident escalated into a three-manager-level brouhaha before the one person acting like a manager said, "Just give her her change."

Makes me wonder how much money might be buried in the dirt and crud at the end of the conveyor.

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