Sold Rage!

Yes, Mrs. HM is complaining again. Today you get two for the price of one. Even though the price is always FREE.

Yesterday, I was on my way to mail the weekly letters for Genius and The Pony. I was planning to stop by two places to get scratchers for Genius's letter. I send him two tickets a week, you know. Just because I can. The Pony gets cash, because he's in the middle of Oklahoma, unable to cash in winners if he got one.

Anyhoo...the first stop was Casey's. I bought four tickets, and selected one to put in Genius's envelope. Off to my second stop, Waterside Mart. Or not. Because once I turned onto the side street and parking lot, I saw that an entire little league team was standing out front in their uniforms, around a table that's usually not there.

No, thank you.

Mrs. Hillbilly Mom will not be coerced nor shamed into donating. Especially not to a sports team. Pay your own way, boys! It's a privilege, not a right. I'm pretty sure you can come up with a couple hundred bucks for your special top-of-the-line baseball glove. And brand-name shoes. And stylish socks, and t-shirts that wick away moisture. So I'm pretty sure you can afford to stay four-to-a-room at the playoffs, if it's even more than a comfortable driving distance away.

I went on through the parking lot, and out the other side. Too bad for Genius. He was getting both tickets from the same store today.

After more errands, I stopped by the Original Waterside Mart for scratchers. Those winners were burning a hole in my purse! Once parked, I saw more players from that team staking out this store as well! Let me give you some advice, boys. Even though I had no intention of giving you anything...it would behoove you to at least speak up and ask for spare change. Because from what I saw, you were wasting your day standing in the heat, holding the door open for old ladies like me, not even requesting a donation for your trouble.

But that's not my main complaint!

I stood in line while other players bought themselves treats. Then I handed over my scratchers, telling the clerk I was trading them in for more tickets. There was a man behind me who stepped to the next open register. No big deal. I gave my clerk the numbers of the tickets I wanted. He was kneeling behind the counter, tearing them off, when the clerk waiting on that formerly behind-me man walked over. "I need a number 11."

MY CLERK HANDED HIM THE #11 HE HAD ALREADY TORN OFF!

Yeah. The ticket meant for ME! Already in hand, with a #10, waiting on #12 and #13. How is that even permitted? It was clearly MY ticket! I asked for it first. My clerk had it in hand, already torn off. But no. He gave it to that fomerly behind-me man!

You know what happened, right? The #11 ticket that I got was a LOSER! I'm going to be really, really mad if I read about that kind of ticket from that store winning a big jackpot.