This is a story about my mother. In retrospect, I am highly-amused by what happened, but at the time, if the pavement could have swallowed me up, I’d have been just as happy.
In the next town over, from where I grew up, there was a little food stand, the only one in the immediate area. They sold ice cream, hamburgers, and lobster rolls. Now, keep in mind that my mother LOVED lobster.
My Dad drove us down to this stand, and he and I, not liking lobster, probably ordered a cheeseburger. My mother, ordered a lobster roll. She took a number and waited to be called on the intercom to pick up the food. We took the order back to the car.
My mother squealed, “Where’s the lobster? This is not a lobster roll! It is a ‘lobster ran through it’ roll!” She proceeded to get back in line and made the very same statement to the owner.
A more infuriated man, I have barely ever seen! He took the lobster roll, threw it in the trash, and told her to leave. He screamed, “Get out! Get out! I am taking down your license plate number and if your car, or you, ever return here, I will call the police!”
We left, never to return. Shortly after the incident, the man died and his business closed down forever. I hope that he learned his lesson and is now serving more substantial amounts of lobster, wherever he is. I can’t help but think that his death was Karma at work.
Moral of this story: One can cheat the public, some of the time, but one should not mess with old ladies who complain. The battle may be won, but in the end, the WAR is lost.
Patricia Cummings
Quilter’s Muse Publications
