Unfortunate Luck

Unfortunate Luck
By Lacey P. Morris

It was a typical Sunday afternoon at the shop. A few customers came and went but did nothing more than browse the sell-through section and ask about the past weeks new releases. By the time two pm rolled around the customer count was a sitting stone at a measly thirty four. Leaned up against the counter in the most unprofessional manner, my eyes glazed over with sheer boredom, I stared out into the vast emptiness of the parking lot that separated The Video Spot from the mall where all the real action took place. At that point I was completely unaware of the short, balding, dark-skinned man who stood patiently awaiting my attention on the opposite side of the counter.

That man was Patrick Andrews- a regular video rental customer who could be found browsing the library section at least four or five times a week. He let out a subtle cough intending to pull my attention away from the mesmerizing ghost lot. I blinked then straightened my posture as if trying to portray some sort of professionalism. I made my way over to the counter and signed into the till.

“Hey Patrick, how are things this afternoon?” I asked politely. A slight tone of embarrassment was present in my voice so I cleared my throat and continued on with the transaction.

“Oh not to shabby, I was just in the area running some errands and I remembered that Mission Impossible 3 was released last Tuesday so I figured I would stop in and pick up a copy.” Patrick said matter-of-factly. Judging by the fact that Patrick had come to the counter with a copy of MI3 and a kid’s title in hand I figured that he had found what he was looking for.

“Awesome! So I’m guessing that you found what you were looking for today?”

“Yes I did, thank you for asking.” Traditionally, as a long term employee of The Video Spot, I attempted to up sell a combo and was unsuccessful. Patrick and I continued to make small talk as I bagged up his rentals and handed him the receipt.

“Alright, well it was great seeing you again. You have Mission Impossible 3 until Tuesday and Dora Meets Diego until next Sunday. You know the drill. We’ll see you then.” I concluded as Patrick made his way towards the exit. The door chimed indicating that the store was, once again, dead.

As I turned around to check the time on the nearest computer I noticed a beaten up ten dollar bill- that looked like it had been through quite an adventure- sitting on the counter next to the till that I had used for Patrick’s transaction. The first thing that I thought to do was to look out into the parking lot to see if Patrick’s car was still parked out front. There were no noticeable signs of life out there. The lot was a dead as a one hundred year old deceased woman. I couldn't believe that this is where I chose to spend eight and a half hours a day, five days a week of my life.

I did a quick floor walk and then glanced at the adult room surveillance monitor before finally coming to the conclusion that I should just pocket the ten dollars before some other random person did. I looked around once more as I nonchalantly crammed the bill into my pants pocket with shaking hands. Then I slowly started to walk away. I grabbed the batch key and checked the bin for returns. Anything would do at this point to keep my over-active conscience from reminding me that I had just pocketed someone else’s hard earned cash. I felt guilty but I also felt comfort in knowing that I had a bit of cash on me to fall back on if necessary. I decided that if Patrick came back for the ten dollar bill I would fork it over, but if not, it was rightfully mine to keep.

The rest of the afternoon crept by until five o’clock finally rolled around. Business was just starting to pick up as my shift came to an abrupt end with three rude customers in a row- two of whom stormed out of the store threatening to make their sales else where. The manager witnessed these rather unpleasant disputes and pulled me off to the side to give me a few “pointers” on how I should be committing myself to exceptional customer service. I couldn’t wait to get home, away from the cold lifeless atmosphere of the store and into the warm, inviting coziness of my apartment. I changed into my street clothes, grabbed my jacket, and said goodbye to the rest of the staff as another unpleasant day at work came to an end…at last. I breathed in a deep sigh of relief as I made my way to the bus stop.

The bus came later than usual to my dismay and the guy who was driving it was a complete jerk. The bus drove two blocks down Lake Street before I pulled the string to indicate that I would like to get off at the next stop. Apparently the bus driver had other things on his mind as he completely disregarded my request to get off. I walked to the front of the bus and asked the bus driver jerk- as politely as possible without blowing up on him and making one huge, completely unnecessary scene- if he could please stop the bus for me so that I could get off. I bit my tongue and gritted my teeth as he muffled some rude comment about how unsafe it was to pull the bus over at an undesignated street corner. Finally he pulled over and let me off. As the doors closed and the bus started to drive off something inside of me snapped and I yelled out, “Learn to do your job properly ass-hole!” and I flipped him the bird, hoping that he would see it through the rear view mirror.

I realized that I was being completely irrational and that my method was completely useless at preventing such an incident from recurring but it felt like the right thing to do at the time. I was completely fed up with the misfortune that this particular Sunday had in store for me and all I could hope for was for things to go back to the way that they usually were. I started to make my way towards the path that led home. The path started on the other side of the park and as I made my way across the frozen pit of sand I noticed a pitiful-looking old man bundled up in a tattered flannel blanket sitting on a park bench. The sight of something so depressing triggered that over-active conscience of mine and there I was, less than a block away from home, standing in the bitter cold, feeling the affects of this old man’s misfortune. Before I could even hesitate, I was reaching into my pocket for that crumpled ten dollar bill that I had found earlier on the counter at work.

I walked over to the old man and before I could even speak, the stinging pain of sympathy was stabbing me in the gut as I looked into the cold hopeless face of the old man. Just as the old man was about to ask me if I had any spare change my hand containing the ten dollar bill was reaching towards him in a gesture of compassionate offering. “Sir, I think you need this much more than I do.” I said with a smile that I could feel throughout the rest of my body as I placed the crumpled bill in the callused palm of the old man’s hand. His mouth curved upwards into a smile of yellow, decaying teeth.

“Thank-you dear girl for your generosity.” The old man said in return.

“…And I hope that this ten dollar bill will bring you more luck than I have been having all day. I said before bidding farewell to the old man and continuing on my way home. The old man thanked me again and I caught one last glimpse of that peculiarly pleasant smile of decayed teeth before I started walking in the opposite direction.

Just as I neared the end of the path that led towards home I heard the hideous sound of huge semi truck tires screeching against the ice covered pavement of the road across the field from the park. My blood ran cold as it occurred to me that there must have been a terrible accident. Naturally, I started running back towards the park and as I did I couldn’t help but notice that the old man was no longer on the park bench where I had left him with a crumpled ten dollar bill in hand. I continued towards the road as police and Emergency Medical Responders swarmed the area like sea-gulls in a McDonald’s parking lot. I got as close as possible before being told to clear the area and continue on with my business by a rather unpleasant member of the Edmonton Police Force.

I was about to turn and walk away from the accident- frightened and shocked at the fact that something so tragic could happen so fast- something peculiar caught my attention. Out of the corner of my eye I could see something familiar sticking out from under one of the tires of a Chevrolet mini van that had been totaled in the accident. It was a tattered flannel blanket spattered with blood. Then it hit me. It was the same blanket that the old man had wrapped around him as I placed the beaten up ten dollar bill in his wrinkly old hand less than ten minutes prior to catastrophe that had just taken place.

My heart felt like it had sank to the pit of my stomach as I realized that the old man was buried somewhere in the debris of the massive car wreck that had seconds earlier taken place. Then I froze. The truth kicked me in the gut delivering a ruthless blow. The old man had been the cause of the horrendous accident that lay before me. He accepted my kind offering and had gotten more than anyone could possibly imagine would come out of a lousy ten dollars.

I walked away from the accident trying to accept the fact that this whole mess could have been avoided if I would have just left the ten dollar bill where I had found it. I decided to take the long way around instead of the path, and as I neared the intersection across the street from my apartment building I noticed a mother and her son walking towards the park. As they walked past me I couldn’t help but overhear the young boy say excitingly to his mother, “Mommy, mommy, look what I found!” as he bent over and picked up a crumpled up ten dollar bill off of the icy sidewalk.