I went to CompUSA to get a replacement power cord for my Mommie’s PC. It took 3 very helpful salesclerks to find a universal power source that we thought might work. It cost (close your eyes, Mommie) $79. (Big bucks for an extension cord, I’d say.) “Can I return it if it turns out to be the wrong model?” “Oh, I have to tell you: if you open the box, it’s a 15% restocking fee.” Oh well. My Mommie needs me, so I give up the credit card.

Do I have to tell you that it didn’t work? That I tried each of the two adaptor plugs that fit into the socket, and: Nothin’? So I packed it all up again and figured, well, 15% of $79 is $7.90 plus, what? $3.70? so that’s means it’s costing me $11.60 to make a fuss over my Mommie. She’s worth that much, isn’t she?

I went right back to CompUSA and told the lady at the return counter, “I have to return this because it doesn’t work with my mother’s computer.” She gave the box a cursory inspection; peeked between the plastic display window and the cardboard body of the box. It seemed that everything looked cool to her. It was then I realized that my virgo-rising fussiness served a useful purpose: While I though I was just being neat by re-packing the box as close to it’s original configuration as I could, the salesclerk didn’t notice that the tape seal had been broken and she neglected to charge me the re-stocking fee.

That was God patting me on the head for being a good daughter.