A Greekish Gunther Tragedy

When my children were young, we had a very generous neighbor who gave each of our NINE children bookstore gift cards at Christmas. We were booklovers, and the gift was a generous $25 per person. This was pre-Amazon. Shopping for the selection and purchase meant going in-person to the bookstore.

I don’t recall why I felt the rush to go while the Christmas holidays were still in full swing. Likely I knew that the longer I delayed, the more likely the cards would be lost, and my kids would not receive the intended gift. So I packed them all up, and the ten of us headed to the mall bookstore with the rest of the Christmas shoppers.

The mall bookstore was two stories high with its own escalator. It was a big store. I buddied up the kids in a fashion that would result in the least conflict. I set out the rules of engagement. No escalator. Everyone stays on the same level. If you move to another book section, find me and notify me before you go. Stay together with your buddy no matter what. Again this was all pre-Amazon, pre-cell phones. I needed a battle plan. Everyone shot off to their interest shelves with a buddy in hand. After an hour and no one asking to go to the bathroom, we convened at our pre-appointed rendezvous. I had to run this like a military insertion. My goal was to get in and get out with no kid left behind. There was the one, as there always is, who we couldn’t find right away but eventually was discovered sitting in a corner buried in a book. Once assembled and accounted for, each shared their treasured finds, and we headed to the check-out line.

The total gift card amount meant that we were carting quite a stack of books. I selected a couple of my boys to stand in line with me to carry the books. The rest of our gaggle stood off to the side. The line was long. The books were heavy, but everyone kept their cool. Every anxious side glance at the waiting group of kids let me know our time was precariously limited. The contained chaos was holding at a socially acceptable level.

As we approached the cash register, we stacked all our books on the counter. I was pretty proud that we had not exceeded the gift card amount of $200+ worth of books. When the total was declared, I handed over those nine gift cards, waiting for the final transaction so we could get out safe without significant incident. Then I heard those words. The cashier looked at me with great exasperation and said, “ Ma’am, these gift cards are for Barnes and Noble. You are at Borders.

Borders. I am at a Borders. I stared at her for a second, and then without a blink, I took the gift cards back and gave her my credit card.

On the drive home, I kept all the books in the bags explaining to the kids that we’d look at the books later. When we got home, I walked right up to my husband, handed over the bags of books, and said, “I went to the wrong bookstore. I didn’t have the courage to ask them to reshelve the books. If you want our money back, you’ll need to return these. I am not going back.”

God Bless him. Gary got the car keys and took the books back right then without complaint. I can’t even remember all the details of how we eventually spent those gift cards, which we did, but I never again took everyone at one time to the bookstore.

Looking back on this event now seems more a comedy than a tragedy. What’s the difference you ask?

“Tragedies, in general, take the philosophical view that life is a misfortune because it is filled with pain and suffering and always inevitably ends in death. In general, comedies take the view that life is ridiculous because most people behave like fools with unrealistic pretensions and expectations. Both viewpoints are valid. Most of us see life as a grim and pointless struggle at some times, while at other times when we are in a good mood, we see life as a game to be played and not as something to be taken seriously. “ –from enotes.com

That’s the power of our viewpoint. We write our stories. Sometimes we place our circumstances as tragic misfortune. Other times we see our circumstances as part of the ridiculous that comes our way. Life is full of trouble and joy, both minute and grand, trying and exhilarating, all requiring effort.

“Laughter and tears are both responses to frustration and exhaustion. I myself prefer to laugh, since there is less cleaning do to do afterward.”

― Kurt Vonnegut

I am grateful for this choice in our stories. Given a choice to laugh or cry, I choose to laugh in my everyday living, and as Vonnegut says, it tends to be less messy.

Which do you choose?