Easy come, easy go.

At lunch today with my favorite coworker, I discovered that a cool, crisp $100 bill I had in my Coach wristlet was missing.  (Trust me, I don’t normally roll like that. )  After mentally re-tracing my steps since Mr. Benjamin arrived (on Tuesday, today is Friday), I came to a very, very unsettling conclusion:  I tipped a valet parking attendant at Americas last night $101. 

With the sick feeling still in my stomach, I shared this news with my 2nd favorite coworker, an older, wiser gentleman who I just knew would make me feel less stupid about the situation.  He said, “Amanda, I’m sure that guy needed that money worse than you did.”  (I was right.  He did make me feel better.)  And then he said, “Or he changed it for dollar bills and blew it on lap dances and alcohol at one of the city’s many gentleman’s clubs.” 

Thanks, Todd.  Thanks.


One thought on “Easy come, easy go.

  1. I feel your pain. After our most recent garage sale, I somehow misplaced our profit. I am 100% sure I deposited it, but just wrote the wrong amount on the deposit slip. Lucky bank teller got away with our money, I just know it. I learned my lesson: Never talk to the phone while filling out a deposit slip.


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