Frances and I went out for breakfast a couple days ago. When we were done eating, I sent her to pay our bill while I had my last cup of coffee. Our bill was $11.80. I gave Frances a twenty. She did not want to give me the change. We argued for a minute and then she said, shaking her head sadly, “Mom, you’ve taught me a very bad lesson.”
“What?” I asked.
“Well, “ she replied, “When you get money back at the cash register, you never give me any of it, even when I ask very nicely. So that makes me think that, when I get money back at the cash register, I shouldn’t give any of it to you.”
“Is that so?” I asked.
She sighed, and said, “I guess you’ve learned your lesson…” Then she gave her head another sad, slow shake.
“I have learned a lesson, Frances,” I assured her. “I’ve learned to never send you to the cash register again.”
“Mom!” Her head shot up. “That was not the lesson!”
“Well,” I said, “That’s the thing about lessons. People don’t always learn the lesson you want them to.”
Frances was not at all eager to learn that lesson, so we went back and forth for awhile. Ultimately, we arrived a resolution that was satisfactory to neither of us. I insisted that Frances give me the five, and then I asked her to count out four dollars for the tip. She kept the two dimes. Our waitress made out all right, I suppose, but Frances wasn’t thrilled with her meager haul, and I was left with the fear that, by letting Frances know that I am not willing to engage in a public wrestling match over 20 cents, I was encouraging her to explore just how far she can push me before I will engage in a public wrestling match.
The lesson here? I have no idea.
