I’ve mentioned more than once how I stop at a florist every morning to visit Rosie the cat. It’s become such a part of my daily ritual I’d never dream of not popping by. In my addled imagination, I know she waits for me.
A week or so ago, I purchased a giant pumpkin from them for my friend Linda. Whatever possessed me not to ask the full price will remain a mystery. But the original 30 dollars ballooned to 48 when I assigned my John Hancock to my Amex (thirty dollars for a pumpkin? (Sorry folks, this is New York, not Kansas).
“And that 18 dollars extra would be for what exactly?”
It was going crosstown, not Chicago, but out of courtesy to Rosie, ate the cost.
Okay…let me also say…I’m very nice to this group of Greeks fresh off the boat from Cyprus. I offer them coffee, bring pictures of Rosie I take with my hand-held. Did I feel exploited? Yes, but got over it quickly. Business is business after all, I tell myself though rightfully miffed.
But what’s coming is what I didn’t get over.
This morning I’m having breakfast with my sweet Filipino lady friend and wanted to bring her a little something. At the florist earlier, I asked, could I please take a mini pumpkin that fits in the palm of your hand, and I’ll pay them in the morning. Had no cash on me, and didn’t want to charge it.
A reasonable request, I thought, considering I am there faithfully every morning no later than 6:15.
The guy looked at me, paused with an array of snapdragons in his arms and said with much reluctance, “Hell okeey,” as if I asked to take one of his kidneys home. The item, even marked up, can’t be more than ten dollars..without a da-liv-edee fee of course.
Under normal circumstances I would have hit the ceiling. I would have no prob calling him out not only on his miserliness but the tone of voice he graced me with. There was just one problem: I had a cat I know personally, blinking love and affection at my feet, and I knew if I got into a tussle with Panagioti, Peter in Greek, it might be too awkward to visit again.
The bottom line?
I HATE CHEAP PEOPLE.
I take it as such an affront against one’s fellow man. What propels it exactly…fear…lack…bitterness of heart?
Who said, early toilet training?
Tomorrow, nice and early, I will go pay my pumpkin debt. I will try to remember how happy Connie was, a very generous soul, when I gave it to her.
Then I will take Rosie aside and tell her, if she ever needs anything…kibble…a mouse…therapy...ANYTHING this tightfisted group may deny her…to please give me a call.
I will then huff and puff as I make my way home to begin my day cursing all those who are pumpkin cheap.