Our local paper has a regular column about people who do good deeds. Kind of like a Caught Being Good list for adults. Sometimes the acts of kindness are heartwarming, like folks helping stranded motorists, or lending money at a tough time, or cheerful, shelf-stocking teenagers assisting septuagenarians with items on the top tier at the grocery store, or a 9-1-1 operator making sure a lady about to lose her speech got a free land line so a call for help could be traced in an emergency.
But other times, the good deed is a stretch of the imagination. Take the week that a woman was commended because she paid for a newspaper she accidentally picked up. I'm not mocking her. ME, of all people, who just happened to let it slide when the Walmart checker forgot to ring up my DVD of Bridesmaids (Blu-ray edition), and a computer game that The Pony had picked out. I can't help it that she unstealified it and then forgot to charge me. It's not something I make a habit of, ripping off The Man. My momma didn't raise me to be the black sheep of retail customers.
My questionable moral fiber aside, Paper Woman did not use good sense. She stopped to buy a copy of the local newspaper out of a machine. She put in her fifty cents, scooped up her flimsy latest edition, and let the door of the dispenser slam shut. After perusing the headlines, she noticed that she had picked up TWO papers. So she got in her car, drove to the newspaper office, and handed the counter person the extra paper. She explained that she did not want to steal, so she returned the surplus copy.
PUH-LEASE! How much did it cost Paper Woman to drive to that office? Obviously, she had not purchased her paper at the machine out front, or she would not have needed to drive to the office. Around these parts, it could have been a twenty-mile round trip. For a fifty-cent newspaper.
I commend Paper Woman for her honesty. But pity her for her lack of foresight. How about simply putting two more quarters in the machine? Or better yet, putting in two more quarters, then returning the extra paper to the machine? That way, she could be a double do-gooder. Decree herself Doubly DoRight. And later, she could call the office and tell them what she'd done. She could still be a small-town celebrity. But with less hassle, and more money.
There you go. Problem solved. You're welcome, Paper Woman. Maybe I should call the newspaper office and tell them of my good deed.