June 2002 Issue - Essay # 8
Salisbury
Steak
By William Joseph
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I'm
in Genovese Drugs after lunch, buying some candy, which I surely don't
need after two slices of pizza, but the store is right there within
walking distance of my office, so what can I do? And I'm on line, with my Mounds bar and Heath bar, neither of
which is a candy I normally buy, but both of which are candies I enjoy. They're on sale at two for 88 cents, or at least I think they're
on sale because there's a sign in the candy aisle that says two for 88
cents, but when she rings them up it comes up as $1.09, which is exactly
what 50 cents each plus tax turns out to be. So
I say to the cashier, "Aren't these two for 88 cents?" Which
will save me exactly 14 cents including tax, but it's not the money,
it's the principle. If the
sign said two for a dollar, or even 50 cents each, I still would have
bought two, but the sign said two for 88 cents, so I figured I should be
getting two for 88, not two for a dollar. While
I'm waiting for the cashier to come back, this old guy comes right up to
me--very much in my personal space, his face right next to mine, and
asks if I know what day it is. I
don't like anyone in my personal space, unless it's some woman I happen
to be kissing, and the only woman I ever happen to be kissing is my
wife. I can also tolerate it
if my kids are in my personal space, but only sometimes and only for a
little while. But the guy is
old, maybe twice my age, which puts him somewhere in the mid- to
late-80's, and so I try to be understanding. Hey, I'm as compassionate as the next guy from New York, which, up
until recently, people would have thought meant not at all. But aside
from being in my personal space, the guy isn't doing anything to bother
me. So
the old guy asks if I know what day it is, and I think for a second to
make sure I've got it right, and then I tell him, "It's Wednesday.
June 5." "No,"
I say. "2002." I
have no idea how I'm supposed to respond to that, none whatsoever, so I
just stare at the old guy and nod my head. The cashier is just getting back from checking the candy price,
and she tells me they're two for a dollar. So I give her $1.09, which I already have in exact change ready
for her, because I knew she was going to say they're two for a dollar,
and at this point I no longer care if they're two for 88 or 50 cents
each, regardless of the principle. I
just give her the money, and I take my candy and I leave. I don't even wait for her to put the candy in a bag, because I'm
afraid if I do I'll burst out laughing. Which, as soon as I get outside, I do. I try to hold back, so I won't look like I'm the crazy one,
laughing all by myself outside of Genovese Drugs, but all the way back
to the office I can't stop laughing.
And I can't help wondering what it is he found out about Salisbury
steak. |
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Author's Biography William Joseph lives in Saint James, NY with his wife and sons, where he does "something with numbers" from nine to five. He's an average, middle-aged man doing average, middle-aged things, and remains unknown to all but his family and friends. In his fantasy life, though, William is a well-known writer and changer-of-the-world. E-mail William at WilliamJoseph117@aol.com |
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