Postaday for January 5th: Daring Do
Tell us about the time you rescued someone else (person or animal) from a dangerous situation. What happened? How did you prevail?
My wife loves the Dollar Store. I don’t know why. Yes I know why: she’s a cheapskate. Hey, don’t yell at me! She’s the first person to call herself a cheapskate. “I like a bargain,” she says, “even if it means I’m buying crap.”
So there we are the Dollar Store. My wife’s… somewhere. I’m in the checkout line, behind an old lady, who’s behind a less old lady. I guess the old lady wanted to put her stuff on the belt, and the less old lady Just. Wasn’t. Having. It. Something about how she was making two separate purchases and deciding which things in her piles she did want and didn’t want and her kids kept asking her for things and also she was on the phone because somebody had cancer or something.
She finally raises her voice and now everyone’s staring but the old lady sort of backs off. A few days go by, the less old lady pays and leaves. The old lady pays, and leaves. I pay, and look for my wife, who’s trying to decided if we should get another bargain or two. You know, in case our garbage can’s not full enough. Got to get maximum value out of the garbage bag’s potential volume, right?
We go outside. We go to our car. But our car is blocked because somebody’s not moving. So I go to the guy and ask him (an old man) to back up a bit so we can leave. He doesn’t seem too happy but he does it. Then I get in my car, and only then do I assess the situation.
The old man’s not moving because he wants someone in another parking spot to give him her information. And I realize— it’s the old lady. So I get out, and ask the old guy what’s going on.
He tells me it’s none of my business. I tell him he can’t block this old lady in. If she wants to leave, he has to let her leave. He tells me she almost hit his car as he drove past. He points at a dent. He says he doesn’t remember if he had that dent before. He says he wants her information in case he remembers he didn’t have the dent and therefore she must have done it.
I tell him I don’t care, he can’t just trap her there. He yells at me, “What are you going to do about it?”
I puff up my chest. I smile. I tell him I’m going take a picture of her license plate, his plate, the dent, and give him my phone number so he can call me if he needs to. He says fine. I do the things I said I was going to do and he drives away.
The old lady gets out of her car. She’s crying. I say to her, you’re having a pretty rough day, huh? She laughs. I give her my phone number. I tell her “call me if your insurance company gets a claim from this guy. I’ll be a witness. You didn’t hit him.”
She says thanks.
I get in the car and we leave. I tell my wife the whole thing. “Nice job!” she says. She hands me a Snickers Bar. “Can you believe we got four of these for a dollar? Now that’s a bargain!” So I eat two.
About half an hour later, I’ve got adrenaline shakes, bad. Or sugar shakes from the Snickers. Not sure.