Friday, April 4, 2008

Greased

A fairly well-to-do 50-something couple rolls into our parking lot with their semi-vintage Saab choking like Hillary's campaign. I say semi-vintage beacuse a Saab really isn't much of a collector car, especially since GM took the reigns a few years back.

Anywhoooo, they were in a controlled frenzy because they needed to get to the airport in Flagstaff in 45 minutes or they would miss a flight. It was slow, so I said "I'll drive ya". Turns out the guys is a hospitality professor at a local college and aside from putting up with his snobby opinions about local restaurants (of course he hadn't been to the dive Thai and Mexican places we frequest), it was a quick drive since we talked the hospitality trade for 25 minutes. His little glasses, tweed jacket, triple-pleated dress slacks - shoot me if I start buying that stuff anytime soon.

So I pull up to the airport and I can tell he's gonna grease me - that's cool - I'm thinking $10 for gas or something of that sort. Rather than just hand me $10, he pulls the ol' slip it into his palm, shake my hand, and then I oblige by blindly taking the cash without looking at the denomination. When do we learn this, and why did this become part of our western culture? Turns out he sported me a $20. Looks like I'm gonna throw $10 in the tank - that's not even 3 gallons right now - and get myself hooked up with a colossal lunch at the Cafe. It's a good Friday.

1 comment:

  1. Not bad, double the palm-job you were expecting. Good to know that there are still people out there that appreciate help from others rather than just expecting they should be given the help because they deserve it. I can remember pulling a kid out of a ditch because he couldn't handle his "new" rx-7 and came around the corner too hot. I got a thank you. Not even from him, but his girlfriend, but I digress.

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