Good Will

Bored and wandering around town I happened upon a Good Will store. They are always in buildings that seem far too large for their operation, set back from the main road. 250 parking spaces with 11 filled. Extra storage space for overflow donations I suppose, but it casts an image of vacancy and depression. Private, small town thrift stores are generally more interesting, but on this particular day I stop in.

The door sensor emits a series of tones as I enter the door and the young woman at the counter acknowledges my arrival with a smile. Three or four other shoppers look in my direction as well, and go back to bargain hunting. I wander through aisles of clothes on hangers to the mens department and scan for hideous color schemes and fancy hats or shoes. I certainly don't need anything and I know this.

On the opposite side of the store are household items and I take a look. These are mostly things that I generally avoid owning. There is no need for a special dish for butter, and a pepper mill that requires batteries offers a level of laziness that I refuse to embrace. There is no wonder why most of these things have been donated. I have no use for a framed poster outlining the 1993 game schedule for the Chicago Bears.

Mugs are of a strange and pointless interest of mine, however, and I find one among the one or two hundred others that I like. This mug is simple, but is comfortable to hold. It is tall and slightly heavy - perfect to drink beer from. I carry it to the cash register and greet the woman who had smiled at me when I arrived.

"I like this mug" I tell her. Uninterested, she takes it from me and turns it over in search of a price tag. There is none, which I had already noticed myself.

"There isn't a tag, but all of the other mugs are either $0.49 or $0.99." I know that I have only $1.55 in my pocket in nickels, dimes and a Canadian quarter. I am confident in this transaction.

"Hold on one second." She takes the mug with her into the back room and returns a minute later.

"$1.99 she says."

"Well, I only have $1.55. I will pay you everything that I have. The other mugs cost less and this one is no different."

"Hold on." She disappears once again into the back room with my mug and leaves me standing at the front of a line of customers. When she returns she sets the mug down on the counter, slightly out of my reach. "I'm sorry, $1.99 she says. Once we make a price we can't change it."

We look at each other. I give her a perplexed look and cock my head in slight disbelief. She holds her ground. I look over at one to two hundred mugs sitting on a shelf, and then back to my mug. She holds her ground.

I leave the store with nothing.