The Cost of Being Right
I stopped in the gas station today to pick up a few sodas and iced teas. It was a time-poor man’s grocery run here in Lousiana, where it was in the 80s today. This expedition left me with a plastic bag full of sweating drinks, a soggy receipt, and a lesson about the cost of being right.
First off, let me just say that I was and am right. About what you ask? About the fate of my receipt.
The receipt wound up in the bag with the sweating sodas, where it became sodden. This wouldn’t have happened if the clerk had done the right thing and handed me the receipt, or even the slightly less wrong thing and asked me whether I wanted the receipt in the bag or not. Instead, she did the wrong thing, and stuffed it into the bag where it became waterlogged. “Receipt’s in the bag!” she informed me cheerfully. Ugh.
Here’s the problem. I take all of my credit card receipts, fold them, and put them in my wallet. When I get home, I record the credit card transaction in Quicken so that when I download actual transactions from the financial institution in question, I can compare and make sure there are no spurious charges. This scheme requires a dry, legible receipt.
Now, I know what you’re thinking — this is a matter of personal preference. I prefer being handed my receipt whereas you prefer to have it in the bag. That’s an understandable sentiment, but I assure you that it’s wrong. I have empirical thinking on my side. If the clerk hands me the receipt and I want it in the bag, it takes me less than a second to stuff it in there. If the clerk stuffs it in the bag and I want it in my hand, I have to hold up the line while I go rooting around in the bag, looking for it, only to find it plastered between two Diet Mountain Dews. So, as you can now see, I’m right.
By the way, I’m willing to keep up this line of argument until you get exhausted and concede that I’m right.
You might, then, think that I explained the error of her ways to the clerk. Or not, if you know me well at all. I didn’t. I thanked her, smiled, and left the store. Once home, I extracted my soggy receipt, did my best to make out the figures on it, and entered them into quicken.
You see, it’s not that I’m any less convinced receipt-handing is optimal (though I could be persuaded). It’s just that being right about this isn’t important. It’s not important enough to me to think any further on (after adding a note to use this as a blog post intro), and it’s certainly not important enough for me to comment on to the clerk or anyone else in my life.