Darling, I Do Believe I May Have Been Bamboozled

"Would you like to donate $1 to our ... mumble mumble ... blah..." I heard her ask the two customers in front of me at my local Wendy's fast food / artery cloggers outlet. I couldn't make out the cause, but the way she was saying it, I don't think I was meant to.

I really don't much care for when people put you on the spot like that. No matter what the cause is, you come across like a stingy jackass if you say no. "Okay, so you're buying $20 worth of really unhealthy food and you can't spare one measly dollar to help out the orphans in Zimbawe?"

But here's the thing with me. I don't put out even a nickel unless I have assessed whether it makes sense. And I can't POSSIBLY do that if they put me on the spot like that. Occasionally, only very occasionally, do I find someone peddling a cause that I have done homework on already. Like last week at my haircutting place they were giving money to the Philadelphia Food Bank. I gave them my dollar there.

At Wendy's, I had decided to decline.

I ordered one of their grotesque value meals and a medium frosty. "Would you like to donate a dollar blah blah blah..."

"No thank you, not today." I was polite but firm, and she went about her business. I paid with a credit card, she gave me my food.

Normally at a fast food place, when you pay with plastic, they put the receipt in the bag. But not this time. I went back to the counter. "Excuse me, I didn't get a receipt."

"Oh, sorry. I can't. That machine is broken. It's not even here anymore. They took it away!"

This is generally not acceptable, as I rely on those receipts to keep my account balance up to date, but there didn't really seem to be anything I could do. So I took my food and went back to the office.

As I sat at my desk, stewing over the fact that I was going to have to remember this transaction, I started to do the math. Meal - $7, Frosty - $1.60. So that's $8.60. Plus tax, ummmm -- maybe $9.

My total was $10 something. Or around a dollar more than I think it should have been.

Now, I'm not prone to conspiracy theories, and I tend to give people the benefit of the doubt, but in this case, here's what I think happened.

I think she added a dollar to my order even though I told her not to. And I think she withheld my receipt so that I wouldn't figure it out.

The only hole in my theory is that she was so smooth in telling me that the receipt machine was broken. No stutter. No stammer. Made eye contact while telling me. Of course, that might just mean that she's been practising that all day on all the other people she bamboozled too.

Well, at least it's only a dollar. But guess where I don't think I'll be going next time I need a heart attack on a bun?

That's right -- the Wendy's, on Second Street Pike in Southampton PA.