As
the words leave my mouth, I realize what I’ve done. “Ohmigod! I’ve just contributed
to your cash-back program!”
Her full smile flashes its perfect white teeth at me. “See
how easy? I’m always the one to collect for someone’s birthday. I can
make a cool two hundred at least , every time one of my good friends
passes another milestone!”
“And what, you charge the gift on Lee’s credit card
instead of using all the collected cash?”
She nods. “I’m like my very own rewards program.”
“That’s intense.”
Jodi merely shrugs like it’s no big deal and saunters back
toward the register.
You think you know someone, and meanwhile, they are lying,
cheating and stealing right under your nose. The thought makes me shudder
slightly, like I did yesterday at the bus stop, as if a cool breeze just blew
through the climate-controlled mall.
While Jodi is finishing her transaction, I meander around
and try to process the amorality and simultaneous brilliance of Jodi’s cash-back
program.
Something shimmery catches my attention and I walk toward
it, almost possessed. I grab this gorgeous Missoni sweater from the rack and
see that it’s on sale, but of course it’s not the right size.
I’ve never worn anything like it, but suddenly I must have
it.
Thoughts of Jodi’s thievery fade into the background as I
talk to the saleswoman about my conundrum.
“Let me see if I can locate that for you in another
store,” she offers, taking the item from my hand and moving to the computer to
start searching.
“It’s not like you to pick that.” Jodi nods toward the
top. “It’s see-through!”
“That’s only because of the knit. It’s the whole point of
Missoni stuff! You wear a tank top under it, and then it won’t be see-through
anymore.”
“Duh,” she says, like she knew this all along.
“Excuse me, miss?” The saleslady interrupts. “I found that
sweater in a size six in our Boston store. Would you like me to have it sent to
your home?”
“Um, yeah, I guess so.” I say, walking back up to the
counter. She asks for my home address, which we locate in the computer.
“It should arrive in five-to-seven business days,” she
adds, ready to complete the transaction. That’s kind of a bummer. It would be
nice to wear that sweater tomorrow night, to Leslie’s fortieth birthday party.
“W-wait!” I stammer. She lifts her hand from the computer.
“How much does overnight shipping cost?”
“From Boston? Let’s see…fifty-nine dollars, plus tax.”
“That’s ridiculous,” I say, mentally erasing the sweater
from my wardrobe for the time being.
But then I think again.
Boston.
It’s not like Boston is all that far away. People travel
there and back in a single day all the time, for business. There’s the Acela
train. I could get there pretty fast.
Georgie’s in Boston.
And I have nothing to do tomorrow.
Everyone thinks I’m on jury duty.
What’s more ridiculous? Overnight shipping or a random day
trip?
I look over at Jodi, who seems perfectly content to lie to
her husband, to get one over on him and do as she pleases.
But come on, Lauren, I think. You’re no Jodi.
You can’t just lie to everyone around you and have a good time while doing it.
You have a conscience and morals. Besides, you feel guilt exquisitely.
Boston . I test the sound of it in my mind.
Jury duty.
Take a little leave?
Just for one day, I muse.
Nothing big.
I turn back to the saleswoman and smile.
“You know what?” I ask. “Can you put the sweater on hold
for a day? At the Boston store, I mean?”
The saleswoman nods, but seems confused. I lean over the
counter to whisper my plan. “I think…I think I’ll go get it myself tomorrow!”
Just then, Jodi walks over. I worry that she’s heard me,
but she’s too busy shopping to notice. “Ugh, all the clothing here is so cute!
But I have to go get the girls at school, take one to tennis, one to art, and
one to tae kwon do, then roast a
the words leave my mouth, I realize what I’ve done. “Ohmigod! I’ve just contributed
to your cash-back program!”
Her full smile flashes its perfect white teeth at me. “See
how easy? I’m always the one to collect for someone’s birthday. I can
make a cool two hundred at least , every time one of my good friends
passes another milestone!”
“And what, you charge the gift on Lee’s credit card
instead of using all the collected cash?”
She nods. “I’m like my very own rewards program.”
“That’s intense.”
Jodi merely shrugs like it’s no big deal and saunters back
toward the register.
You think you know someone, and meanwhile, they are lying,
cheating and stealing right under your nose. The thought makes me shudder
slightly, like I did yesterday at the bus stop, as if a cool breeze just blew
through the climate-controlled mall.
While Jodi is finishing her transaction, I meander around
and try to process the amorality and simultaneous brilliance of Jodi’s cash-back
program.
Something shimmery catches my attention and I walk toward
it, almost possessed. I grab this gorgeous Missoni sweater from the rack and
see that it’s on sale, but of course it’s not the right size.
I’ve never worn anything like it, but suddenly I must have
it.
Thoughts of Jodi’s thievery fade into the background as I
talk to the saleswoman about my conundrum.
“Let me see if I can locate that for you in another
store,” she offers, taking the item from my hand and moving to the computer to
start searching.
“It’s not like you to pick that.” Jodi nods toward the
top. “It’s see-through!”
“That’s only because of the knit. It’s the whole point of
Missoni stuff! You wear a tank top under it, and then it won’t be see-through
anymore.”
“Duh,” she says, like she knew this all along.
“Excuse me, miss?” The saleslady interrupts. “I found that
sweater in a size six in our Boston store. Would you like me to have it sent to
your home?”
“Um, yeah, I guess so.” I say, walking back up to the
counter. She asks for my home address, which we locate in the computer.
“It should arrive in five-to-seven business days,” she
adds, ready to complete the transaction. That’s kind of a bummer. It would be
nice to wear that sweater tomorrow night, to Leslie’s fortieth birthday party.
“W-wait!” I stammer. She lifts her hand from the computer.
“How much does overnight shipping cost?”
“From Boston? Let’s see…fifty-nine dollars, plus tax.”
“That’s ridiculous,” I say, mentally erasing the sweater
from my wardrobe for the time being.
But then I think again.
Boston.
It’s not like Boston is all that far away. People travel
there and back in a single day all the time, for business. There’s the Acela
train. I could get there pretty fast.
Georgie’s in Boston.
And I have nothing to do tomorrow.
Everyone thinks I’m on jury duty.
What’s more ridiculous? Overnight shipping or a random day
trip?
I look over at Jodi, who seems perfectly content to lie to
her husband, to get one over on him and do as she pleases.
But come on, Lauren, I think. You’re no Jodi.
You can’t just lie to everyone around you and have a good time while doing it.
You have a conscience and morals. Besides, you feel guilt exquisitely.
Boston . I test the sound of it in my mind.
Jury duty.
Take a little leave?
Just for one day, I muse.
Nothing big.
I turn back to the saleswoman and smile.
“You know what?” I ask. “Can you put the sweater on hold
for a day? At the Boston store, I mean?”
The saleswoman nods, but seems confused. I lean over the
counter to whisper my plan. “I think…I think I’ll go get it myself tomorrow!”
Just then, Jodi walks over. I worry that she’s heard me,
but she’s too busy shopping to notice. “Ugh, all the clothing here is so cute!
But I have to go get the girls at school, take one to tennis, one to art, and
one to tae kwon do, then roast a
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