Poor Memory

(We are having a book drive for a local school that has had a terrible fire, causing it to lose its entire library. When customers come up, we are allowed to tell them about the drive and ask if they would like to donate. If not, it is okay, but we ask just the same.)

Me: “Would you like to donate a book to the St. [Name] book drive?” *I clearly explain their situation*

Customer: “No, I don’t give money to poor people. If they want money, they have to work for it like the rest of us. I don’t like lazy layabouts.”

(I am about to remind the customer that it was a fire, when the customer’s husband interjects.)

Customer’s Husband: “Do you really feel that way, dear? I wonder if you felt this way 27 years ago when we had an infant, no jobs, no money, and had to ask my parents for an allowance so we could live. Now that we have money in the bank, a Volvo in the driveway, and a designer handbag on your arm, suddenly we are too good to help others?”

(The husband then turns to me.)

Customer’s Husband: “Are these the books you are selling?”

(The husband indicates a pile we have beside the register. I nod, dumbfounded.)

Customer’s Husband: “We will take them all.”