On the Ethics of Found Money
So yesterday meorime and I walked into Carl's Jr. to see a pack of twenty dollar bills folded over and lying on the floor. I immediately picked up the money and asked the lady behind the counter who was just here. She wasn't very helpful (more stunned at the $200+, I think, and unable to picture the person who had last been at the counter. I concealed the money in my right hand and went over to the dining section, which was almost empty. Two kids were sitting at a table, one a teenager and the other under ten. I didn't think either of them was likely to have been carrying such a chunk of cash, but I had to ask.
I said, "Excuse me, but could you have dropped something over by the counter?" He stood up and wanted to know what had been dropped. I wasn't willing to say because anyone might be willing to claim cash. Then their father came out of the bathroom, so I asked him, "Excuse me, sir, but would you check to see if you dropped something over by the counter?"
He patted his pockets and quickly said, "My money!"
From the angle I knew he couldn't have seen what I had hidden in my hand (and behind my leg), so I felt confident he was the right guy. "That's all I wanted to hear," I said. I handed it to him and relief flooded his features.
"Oh, my God," he said. "Thank you. You just made my day. Can I buy your lunch?"
"That's all right. You don't have to do that. I'm just glad you were still here."
He thanked us a couple of more times, and before he left he gave us his name and phone number. It seems he's an electrician and he'd be happy to help us out if we ever need it. Makes me wish we were homeowners.
It occurred to me later that it might have been rude to not allow him to buy us lunch. I demurred because I wasn't thinking in terms of reward. I gave the money back because it was the right thing to do, at least to my way of thinking. But he wanted to buy us lunch not out of a sense of obligation, but a sense of gratitude. I'm still not sure what I think the socially "proper" response it.
Today I had the day off from work (it's a Catholic school, so Easter is a four day holiday). Part of my celebration of this fact was lunch at Burger King, a guilty pleasure I indulge in maybe four times a year these days. Anyway, I only had a five dollar bill in my wallet, so I stepped into Longs Drugs to buy some Easter candy on sale and get a ten dollar bill. These things I did, and I mention them only because of their importance to what happened next.
I was eating in Burger King when a young man (maybe 20) came in and told me I dropped a twenty dollar bill in Longs Drugs. I assured him that I hadn't. He seemed quite certain of it and repeated his assertion. I told him I hadn't been carrying a $20 today, so it couldn't have been me. Another repetition or two and he finally left. I spent the next several minutes questioning myself about whether or not it had been possible, but I knew it wasn't. I'd even checked my wallet in advance and knew it only contained a $5.
Then I marveled about the strangeness of it. The man had not attempted to hand me $20, nor told me that the management at Longs had it. I never saw the $20. For that matter I never saw the man in Longs, although I'd noted the four people near me in line in addition to the checker. At this point what Corwin of Amber would call "my worse if wiser self" wondered if it had been the first step of some sort of con game.
I doubt it though, in retrospect. After all, the old woman ahead of me in line had purchased $57.94 worth of goods with cash and had more bills in her wallet. She was not the most dexterous with her cash, and it is possible that she could have dropped the bill. It is also possible that the young man had not seen her. She was rather short.
Either way, if these are part of some obscure attempt by the universe to send me money, I hope it doesn't feel rebuffed.
I said, "Excuse me, but could you have dropped something over by the counter?" He stood up and wanted to know what had been dropped. I wasn't willing to say because anyone might be willing to claim cash. Then their father came out of the bathroom, so I asked him, "Excuse me, sir, but would you check to see if you dropped something over by the counter?"
He patted his pockets and quickly said, "My money!"
From the angle I knew he couldn't have seen what I had hidden in my hand (and behind my leg), so I felt confident he was the right guy. "That's all I wanted to hear," I said. I handed it to him and relief flooded his features.
"Oh, my God," he said. "Thank you. You just made my day. Can I buy your lunch?"
"That's all right. You don't have to do that. I'm just glad you were still here."
He thanked us a couple of more times, and before he left he gave us his name and phone number. It seems he's an electrician and he'd be happy to help us out if we ever need it. Makes me wish we were homeowners.
It occurred to me later that it might have been rude to not allow him to buy us lunch. I demurred because I wasn't thinking in terms of reward. I gave the money back because it was the right thing to do, at least to my way of thinking. But he wanted to buy us lunch not out of a sense of obligation, but a sense of gratitude. I'm still not sure what I think the socially "proper" response it.
Today I had the day off from work (it's a Catholic school, so Easter is a four day holiday). Part of my celebration of this fact was lunch at Burger King, a guilty pleasure I indulge in maybe four times a year these days. Anyway, I only had a five dollar bill in my wallet, so I stepped into Longs Drugs to buy some Easter candy on sale and get a ten dollar bill. These things I did, and I mention them only because of their importance to what happened next.
I was eating in Burger King when a young man (maybe 20) came in and told me I dropped a twenty dollar bill in Longs Drugs. I assured him that I hadn't. He seemed quite certain of it and repeated his assertion. I told him I hadn't been carrying a $20 today, so it couldn't have been me. Another repetition or two and he finally left. I spent the next several minutes questioning myself about whether or not it had been possible, but I knew it wasn't. I'd even checked my wallet in advance and knew it only contained a $5.
Then I marveled about the strangeness of it. The man had not attempted to hand me $20, nor told me that the management at Longs had it. I never saw the $20. For that matter I never saw the man in Longs, although I'd noted the four people near me in line in addition to the checker. At this point what Corwin of Amber would call "my worse if wiser self" wondered if it had been the first step of some sort of con game.
I doubt it though, in retrospect. After all, the old woman ahead of me in line had purchased $57.94 worth of goods with cash and had more bills in her wallet. She was not the most dexterous with her cash, and it is possible that she could have dropped the bill. It is also possible that the young man had not seen her. She was rather short.
Either way, if these are part of some obscure attempt by the universe to send me money, I hope it doesn't feel rebuffed.