I Hope Nobody Is Snickering At The Best Policy

Today I stopped by Country Mart to get some scratchers from their machine. Not for myself, of course! To send to the #1 Son in his weekly letter. I send him two tickets a week, and between the two machines that dispense them, Country Mart has a good selection. Unlike the gas station chicken store, which has limited space in their counter case, and only has four different $5 tickets at any given time. That's what I send #1. The $5 tickets. He didn't say if he won anything this week so probably not. But last week he won ten dollars, and he's been winning a little for a long streak lately.

Of course, while I was there, I figured I might as well get some tickets for myself, right? I was already there, being selfless. So what could it hurt? Those machines don't give change. So I have to make sure they have what I want before I put my money in. I got a Golden Ticket for myself from the left machine, which left me the right amount to get #1's two tickets. THEN I moved to the right side machine, and put in a five to get myself another ticket. As I was getting it out of the tray at the bottom,

I SAW A TICKET LAYING THERE.

It was up against the front lip of the tray, leaning there. It was one of the newest tickets, a $1 version, called Happy Camper. I picked it up and looked at it, making sure it wasn't a used one. Nope. Hadn't been scratched. What to do, what to do? It wasn't my ticket. When I was vending at the left machine, a guy in jeans, thin, with longish dark hair, was squatting down at the right machine. He went out the door as I walked over there. I had to wait on a lady going out before I could cross over. No way could I catch that guy on the parking lot. But it wasn't my ticket.

I took that found ticket to the service desk. I never go there. Not even to cash in my winners. I take them to other stores where I buy. I am not a regular to the service people at Country Mart. The last time I was at the service desk was to return expired cheese, way back when my grandma was alive, and I was making her a Christmas basket. And the time before that, it was to rent some VIDEOS for The Pony, him liking the Thomas the Tank Engine one they had so well that they eventually GAVE it to him, when they got rid of videos in favor of DVDs.

"I found this in the machine. It probably belongs to the man who was there right ahead of me. But it's not mine. So here it is, in case he comes back looking for it."

That lady looked at me like I had two heads. Not in a BAD way. But like I was an oddity.

"Okayyy...what did he look like?"

I described him and she said she would put it under the counter in case he came back. HEY! He COULD come back, you know. People are fanatics about their lottery tickets. Or so I've heard. Anyhoo...that lady might have scratched it as soon as I walked out the door. Or turned and started making fun of me to her cohort. Or gone home later to write a blog post about it.

Still. It wasn't my ticket. I don't like the $1 scratchers.