Just yesterday, after writing Three Wishes, I go out for dinner on my way home.
And a bit disappointing, my food of choice already out, I choose remaining menu just for filling my empty stomach.
After finishing my food, I go to cashier to pay, with still half hunger creeping me.
Me: “How much?”
Seller: “Twelve and five hundred.”
I give him twenty thousand.
Seller: “You have five hundred more,” his want to give me eight thousand for change.
Me: “Here you go.”
Seller: “Sorry it is like I can’t give you round change,” he give me back eight thousand.
Me: “But my exchange is seven and five hundred, you give me five hundred more,” I little bit confuse.
Seller: “But it is your money, man.”
A moment thinking, I’m really embarrassed. Of course it is my money. Can you do math, I talked to my self.
After thanking to the seller, I quickly go fast enough before my face become red and I laugh to my self on my way home.
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Isn’t Your Face Red.”