The feel good story of last week
Did I tell you that I barely have much of a brain these days? I can’t remember if I did or not. I can’t remember a lot of stuff these days . . . Shoot – I just said that.
Blah – blah – blah.
A few weeks ago, the troop and I were wandering around the local outlet land – a land where we sometimes enjoy doing a bit of wandering – and then – we bought something. We bought a “micro-fiber” feather duster – because we are plagued with dust that only a “micro-fiber” feather duster can handle – and also because Emerson was enjoying playing with it.
Time went by and I couldn’t breathe and then I finally decided that I needed to dust. So, I went hunting for the duster. It wasn’t in the closet. It wasn’t hidden away in the house anywhere. It also wasn’t in the car . . . I couldn’t find it near of far. So, I gave up and forgot quickly about the entire affair.
Then another dusty week went by and I decided to redouble my efforts to find the missing duster. It would not be found. I sat down and traced the path of the duster in our lives and decided that we had made a purchase and then run out of the store without it. We had pulled the incredibly bold move of a reverse dine and dash – and it wasn’t sitting right with me.
I hatched a plan to get our duster back – and had eyes rolled at me in unison with a head shake and a sigh. I would simply call the store and ask if they had our duster. Sometimes the simple plans are the best kind.
When I called and explained the situation, I was immediately handed to a manager. I then re-relayed the whole chain of events to the manager – making sure to add that our states of mind were googly because of a lack of sleep – maybe because of our tiniest-of-members and his mind-breaking super powers of sleep depravation . . . She asked if we lived near – and when I said that we kind of didn’t (which is totally true), she offered to send a brand new one to us in the mail . . . A brand new “micro-fiber” feather duster?! Wow!
What did the store get in return? You may be thinking . . . Well, I’ll tell you what – they will get a bunch more of my dollars (when I have some to give them) – and they will get a signed and autographed photo of something – or another – if Socks ever gets those made.