Some 37-years ago I had a friend whose wife was having a baby. He asked me to buy him lunch that morning, handing me a 20 dollar bill, which I promptly stuffed in my pants pocket.
By the time lunch rolled around, I had been so busy that I’d completely forgotten about my friend and the money. So when I stuck my hand in my pocket and pulled out that Andrew Jackson, I was pleased as punch, thinking I’d found cash that I didn’t know I had.
I promptly went to the hospital’s mini-BX and purchased a large jar of Planters’ Peanuts, a couple of Coca0Cola’s, a large Milky Way bar and a People Magazine, as I wanted to find out the low-down on Erik Estrada’s motorcycle accident.
It was evening time and I was heading out the door from a long-ass day in the office seeing patient after patient, when to my horror, I recalled the fact that the now-long spent green-back belonged to my friend. Worse than that was the knowledge that I’d forgotten to get him lunch as I’d promised.
“Totally embarrassed” is how I would describe myself the next day when I saw him in order to return the twenty and tell him what I’d done. He said it was okay, that the nursing staff had fed him as waited for his daughter to come into the world.
A couple of days ago I went to the local market and bought a large Snicker’s candy bar for my friend, Kay’s birthday. She told me that she didn’t want anything, but I can’t let her go the day without a gift and a nice card.
Yesterday, as I sat in front of my computer, bored, tired and unable to think I looked over at the Snickers as it rested on my desk. Without any thought I picked it up, tore it open and took a healthy bite.
At that second, I gasped, realizing what I’d done — I was eating Kay’s birthday present and feeling stupid. When I called to wish her a ‘Happy birthday,” I informed her that I had eaten her candy bar and that I’d have to buy her another one.
This time though, my brain-fart only cost me a buck-thirty-four.