I'm not your bitch, don't hang your shit on me.

Monday, June 13, 2005

Cheap bastard, or cheap bitch?

We're sitting in this overly air-conditioned room, my boss and I. Both of us are taking care of media registration duties for an event. Currently, the conference room is empty. No media in sight. Ideally, I would love to be home, since it is Sunday. But, when duty calls, you have to answer.

That reminds me, I should disconnect my phone.

Moving on...

She gets up from her chair and looks around. "I should get the Sunday Star, but I don't have any money. Does anyone have a dollar they can lend me?" Strange she would ask that question - aloud - since I am the only other person in the room. The unpadded walls create an echo.

"Well, I don't know if I have any change..." I say as I pull out my wallet from my back pocket. In fact, I do, but she doesn't have to know. "If you like, I could buy one and you can reimburse me later on in the week." No response from her. Crickets. This sign of consideration goes unnoticed.

"You know what? Here's some money." She reaches for her purse, and pulls out her wallet. The wallet to end all wallets. The thing is huge. Like a weapon. The dimensions must be 6X12. Fucking huge. And, on top of that, FULL of money - paper, plastic and metal. "Seventy-five cents. That should be enough for the paper."

"Ok." I take the three quarters. "I'll be back in a few secs."

Interesting. She is clearly rolling in the dough, yet she asks/expects for me to offer to pay for the paper. She makes more money than I do, and she knows I don't have a money tree in my backyard - it died from a lack of watering. If I didn't know any better, I'd say she's cheap. Not to mention exploitive.

I run across the street and find a couple of newsboxes. There's the Star, at the end. Is there one in the box? I have to make sure since I don't want to drop her into the slot, only to realize I won't be getting anything back. Yep, there's one left.

As I drop in the first quarter, I see the price listings. Monday to Friday, the paper costs 75 cents. On Saturday, it's $2 because two redwoods were cut down to produce it. Sunday's paper costs one dollar. Lovely. Now, I have to chip in a quarter. I should've known I was going to pay for something.

The final quarter (mine) goes in the slot, the door clicks open, and I pull out the last paper.

Running back, I enter silenced hush of the conference room and hand her the paper.

"It was more than 75 cents. It's actually $8. You need to pay me the difference."

"What? I do not owe you $8." Apparently, humour is lost on her.

"It's a joke. Ha ha. Funny?" I smile. She doesn't. "Actually, it costs one dollar, so you owe me a quarter.

She takes the paper, opens it, and says nothing. Absolutely nothing. No thank you. No I'll pay you back next week. Nothing. Nasty.

Why does it seem like people with money are the stingiest with their money? Is it a method of exerting control over others? Or, are they wealthy because they expect others to pay the tab? Either way, they're cheap.

Before I leave, she still hasn't given me back my quarter. She hasn't mentioned the quarter and I don't think she ever will. Am I a cheap bastard? Or is she a cheap bitch?

2 Comments:

Anonymous whatsthebuzz said...

Cheap bitch! What was her inspiration for such behaviour? Chivalry? Hardly applicable, since she's your boss! I'd die wishing I had a paper, before I'd imply that someone else should buy one for me. NO class.

June 13, 2005 1:23 pm  
Anonymous quixote said...

Jesus...even chivalry should get a thank you! Cheap, controlling bitch!

June 16, 2005 1:44 pm  

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