Times are tough on everyone

Pin It I was returning home from my southern adventure; I decided to venture off of the freeway and travel through a horde of modest little towns and see what they had to offer in the scope of photo-ops.

Needless to say, I was sorely disappointed.

Amidst trash-strewn yards, buildings in a state of general disrepair, and hordes of motorcycle gangs hanging about the local gas stations, there wasn’t a whole lot to be offered. At least not without getting your trash kicked by a group of biker-mamas and papas.

I was readying to depart from one particular little town I suspected was called “Nowhereville,” when I noticed three boys selling something up the street. I’d seen them earlier hauling their cardboard boxes and unknown items to the local gas station marquee sign and set up shop—they then sat down and started yelling, “Get your (insert indiscernible words) here!”

Wondering just what it was they were selling, I decided to make a purchase of whatever it was—after all, remember how I said I supported free enterprise?

I did a quick inventory of my cash status—after all—they probably wouldn’t be able to take a debit card.

I had one dollar.

It was perfect. I’d buy whatever they had for the quarter or fifty cents they were charging, and give the rest as a nice, fat, little tip, right?

Wrong.

I drove up to the small cluster of boys and asked, “So, what are you guys selling today?”

“Juice,” came the reply, with a half-smile.

“Sounds great, how much does a cup run a person?”

“For a whole cup or a half?” he promptly responded.

“Uh…half?”

“Ninety-nine cents.”

I guess that made it sound cheaper than charging a whole dollar. Still, my mind was reeling. A dollar? For a cup of juice—correction—half a cup of juice? Whatever happened to the days of asking for a quarter or fifty cents? I started to think, one more dollar and I could almost bought a gallon of gas. That would be 25 miles closer to home. Did I really still want to support childhood business endeavors at this rate? I’d already bought several items from students this year which I’d never use.

The boy brought me the half-filled cup—which was the equivalent to a ¾ measuring container—of pinkish liquid. I handed over the cash.

“Thanks, have a great day!” he responded.

I thanked the young man and drove off, taking a sip. The juice was good. A dollar good though? Probably not…however, like I said, times are tough on everyone. And really, what’s a dollar when one is supporting a moment of childhood?