“I had my identity stolen. My credit score went up!”
I’m quickly developing a relationship with one of the grocery stores that I frequent, HyVee. It began with my Kindle. I left it in a booth at their Market Grille restaurant when my husband and I had breakfast there. At least I thought that’s where I left it.
I called the store to ask if they’d found a Kindle. They said, yes, they had a Kindle there and asked me the color of the cover. I said it was black.
It’s navy blue. I was so close. They had me put in the password to fire it up before they’d let me take it. I’m glad they were being so careful. I’ll have to work on my power of observation.
Soon after that we, once again, dined there. I forgot my beautiful, leather gloves. I called the store. Yes they had them. I guessed the correct color.
Things went well for quite some time. I didn’t even have to attach a string to my gloves and tie them around my neck! And then …
Last week I stopped to pick up a few items. I used my debit card so I could get some cash back. I wanted $20 because I was going out to lunch with some friends. I got home and couldn’t find the $20. I even searched my car. I called the store.
They asked for information off my register receipt, such as the time I was at the store, the number of the register I’d been at, and the Ref #. I told them that if they counted out the drawer at the end of the day and had an extra $20, it was mine. They called within the hour.
“We reviewed the security tape,” they said, “and you’re right.” As a married woman I hadn’t heard those words for some time. You’re right. I silently cherished the moment. “The cashier failed to give you the $20. We’ll have it at the desk with your name on the envelope.” They didn’t even ask me what color it was. I knew that one.
So here’s what immediately popped into my head. Did my hair look good on the security tape? No, scratch that. I thought of all the raucous noise over privacy, usually made by people who post every move of their life on Facebook. I was glad they were watching me do my grocery shopping.
Now, if they could just install an alarm on the cart that would sound when I’d reach for junk food. Or maybe not.
Loveya – The Grandma
Artist, African hand drum student, yoga neophyte, and Grandmother of 22 or so grandchildren. I enjoy cooking and writing. I value good friends and quiet times for reading.