I happened to go to a low price market in a low income side of town form the mere fact that they sell the very best homemade tortilla chips. I rarely frequent this store other than to purchase the delicious chips or use the ATM.
On one particular visit I was corralling my four children away from the middle of the parking lot and toward the side when I noticed a folded green piece of paper sitting on the ground resembling money.
I immediately knew that from the color and hue this wasn’t one of those “fake you out” advertisements where you think that you are finding money and it turns out to be the likes of a hundred dollar bill with some ad attached to the other side.
I picked up the bill, unfolded it and smiled, admiring a dirty, yet completely legitimate, hundred dollar bill. My children screamed with delight at my find, and each wanted a portion, but instead, I tucked it into my wallet to use at the next round of grocery shopping.
So why do I feel guilty? Because I should have told the manager at the store, whose parking lot the bill was discovered, of my find. I should have given them my name and number and let them know that “some money” was found without giving complete details.
So why do I feel guilty? Because given the fact that I was in a poor area of town, I’m relatively sure that the hundred dollar bill was deeply missed.
After the hundred dollars was spent, I returned to the store for another purchase of chips. The young woman standing in line behind me loaded some groceries onto the conveyer belt and fumbled in her pocket for some one dollar bills combined with loose change. Her financial situation was obviously bleak.
After the conclusion of my purchase, I handed the cashier a ten dollar bill, pointed the woman behind me and said, “Please use this toward her purchase.”
My goal is to give away ten dollars, nine more times, in order to make up for my guilt. I have failed miserably because I haven’t been back to that store in two years, hence the guilt.