Sticker Shock

So we went out to the Mac House for drinks when I got off work. I feel so silly saying that. I guess that’s what people do, though, they go out for drinks. Only I didn’t get anything to drink because I hadn’t eaten all day and my tummy was angry. My tummy actually prevents me from enjoying a lot of social events, and I would have begged off, but I didn’t want to be an asshole. So I went and had soup while other people had drinks. After work. Only everyone is home for winter break, so I was the only one who worked.


There we were. Drinking. This whole scheme was originally hatched by my best friend and I, who had resolved to go out for girlie drinks (this is still a pending plan, since I didn’t drink and she didn’t have anything girlie). The weather is foul, the lights were flickering, and she ordered a hot chocolate with Bailey’s. And another, because it was that kind of night. I think my big city friends who go to real bars can imagine what was coming. The bill arrived, and she owed an obscene amount of money.

And here is where the really amazing part of the story lies. Had that person been me, I would have bitched. I am well known as a bitcher and complainer, that’s what I do. I’m also notoriously tightfisted, so a tear of frustration probably would have escaped my eye as I pondered the bill. But not her. She was a fucking trouper, man. I could tell because I know her that she was pissed, but she knew it would be pointless to fuss because really, what’s the use? And that is one of the many reasons she is a better person than I am. At any rate, I now owe her a compensatory girlie drink, because, really, the amount of money she had to pay was outrageous. I wasn’t even paying and I flinched in misery. What is it with bars and not, you know, posting prices? Anywhere? Is it because they know that you won’t order two of something when you realize how expensive it is…