The Costco Experience.

Dinner time arrived and the cupboards were empty. What are a young bachelor and his room mate to do? Go to Costco, of course.

And that is what we did.

After making it to the entrance and flashing the Costco card, we made straight for the food. A slice of pizza, a polish dog and a medium drink for only $3.75. Now that is a deal. A good deal, too.

As we impatiently awaited our turn in line to order, a girl approaches.

"You just can't leave Costco without getting a cinnamon sugar churro!," she says as she makes her way into line next to me.

I glance at her through the corner of my eye. Is she talking to me? Sure enough, she is.

"I'm sorry?..," I reply.

She repeats herself.

"Oh... yeah...," I answer.

I was excitedly anticipating my cheap gourmet meal and she was simply a distraction. Apparently my facial expression showed what I was thinking because she quickly grabbed her cell and started making a call. Before long, she was talking to a sister about an upcoming baby shower.

* * * *
After polishing off my supreme slice of pizza, I began on the polish dog. Don't worry, Costco polish dogs are 100% kosher.

Anyway.

At the table next to us is a mother with three young children. She is lecturing one of them.

"You know I don't like it when you watch that Sponge Bob show," she started.

Sponge Bob? Intrigued, I listen in more intently.

"Next time you go to your friend's house and watch it, just don't tell me! Then I won't have any reason to get mad at you!"

Now that is parenting at its finest.

The Scam.

My name is Brett Myers. I work at Freschetta Pizza. And yesterday I was scammed.

Dearest Scammer Person,

Yesterday, you saw me behind the counter. The pizza counter.

I don't know what your thoughts were. I am no mind reader.

Perhaps you were planning how you would scam your next dollar; perhaps you just wanted some pizza. It doesn't matter anyway. What does matter is that when the moment came, you decided that your integrity was worth a dollar.

You found my weakness.

Each and every time upon giving a customer their change, I worry that they will look at the change and see that I have accidentally shorted them. It isn't an overwhelming worry. Just one that lingers on the edge of my mind. You already know this.

So when I handed you your change, you did it. "Oh, you only gave me three dollars... Shouldn't it be four?" you said so innocently as you held three dollars up to my view. Looking down at the register, it read $4.00. And so I hurriedly handed you another dollar.

Four hours later, when the money room was counting the money in my box, they discovered that I was a dollar short.

Well I have news for you. I'm on to you.