I went through a drive-thru for a pretzel bagel and left with an immense feeling of guilt. Where has the pretzel bagel been all my life? I don’t remember having bagels at all when I was a kid. A website on the World Wide Web claims bagels were first sold in the U.S. in the mid-eighties. I don’t know if that is true, but we didn’t eat them. We had toast. Bagel shops were huge in the early 90’s and then some a**hole had to start an anti-carbohydrate movement. I like carbs. My hips like carbs. Companies that manufacture elastic pants like carbs.
I placed my order and the clerk, who apparently swallowed the microphone, gave the total. I drove 1 mph to the window and was greeted by another clerk,
“Would you like to donate a $1 to send a kid to camp?”
What is this 1950? How can you send a kid to camp for $1? Do I get to pick which kid gets my $1?
“No, thank you,” I said cheerfully.
She looked at me like I just crapped on the floor.
“I’m sorry, did you say no?”
I needed to explain,”Um, yeah, no. I donated yesterday.”
She handed me a bag and juice. Then, as she turned away I noticed she raised her eyebrows. She didn’t believe me! I wanted to defend myself. I also gave a dollar a few days ago for orphans when I bought my kids fried food for dinner. Oh, and I rounded up at the grocery store for a local food bank. I am not a bad person!” The automated window closed before I could get a word out. I am a good person, damn it!
It’s not my fault. She broke the rule. The girl who swallowed the microphone was supposed to ask me to donate to charity. Then, I could politely decline to what sounds like a robot while looking at a donut menu. That way nobody gets hurt. You can’t ask me face to face. Now, I can’t go back there. I will have to go back to eating toast.