Lost and Found

 

    There was a substantial wad of bills laying just outside of the restaurant last night.  It was only natural to bend down and pick it up as I walked past.  My friend gave me a slight punch on the arm to get my attention, and then said I should have never picked it up.  He said it could have been some sting operation with cops hiding in the bushes watching it.  Maybe it was some ransom drop or something.

        I told him he was being silly.  More likely, someone heading in to have dinner simply dropped it.  I was going to ask, once inside, if anyone had lost some money.

        At that, he hit me a little harder and said that was a stupid plan.  Of course, everyone’s going to put their hand up and say it was them.  He said I needed to think this through before I do anything.

        As we walked into the place, we could see it was very crowded, and loud.  Everyone was talking at once, with waitresses hustling between tables trying to keep up.  We were seated in a corner booth, and each given menus and a glass of water by some kid wearing a not quite clean apron.

        I just kept the money in my pocket until I could figure out what to do with it.  We looked over the choices, even though we both always ordered the same thing whenever we came here.

        My buddy put his menu down and whispered across the table that I should count it.

        Not here, I whispered back, and not now.  It isn’t mine, and if it is too much, I’ll be tempted to keep it.

        The moment those words left my mouth I knew what I had just declared, and he instantly knew it too.  At some point, I had a price.  I would be a crook for the right amount of money.  Now I didn’t even want it in my pocket.  I wanted nothing to do with it.

        Apparently, he was reading my expression, and didn’t want me to feel any worse than I already did.  “Just drop it on the floor, under the table.  Let someone cleaning up tonight find it.”

        I don’t know why, but that sounded like a good idea.  I’d let someone else have a lucky day, and surely, someone cleaning up on the late shift could use the money.

        “What’s it going to be, Honey?”

        I jumped, the waitress was standing right next to me, and I hadn’t even noticed her walk up.

        About twenty minutes into the meal, we noticed the waitress and the restaurant manager over at a table where an old couple had been sitting.  I could see there was an issue of paying the bill.  The old man kept standing up and checking his pockets, while his wife franticly dug through her purse.

        I looked at my friend and said they can’t find their money.  My friend got a big grin on his face and said, “Do you want to be a hero?”

        Sure, I replied, and stood up and walked over to their table.  “Excuse me Sir, but I believe this is yours”, and I handed him the wad of cash.

        He looked stunned, then smiled, and looked like he wanted to hug me.  He peeled off a fifty and handed it to the waitress.  “You can give the change to him.” He said, looking at me.

        After I sat back down at my table, I told my friend what had transpired.  I thought the waitress was going to bring me a buck or two from the old man’s change.  Turns out, all they had was two coffees.   The waitress explained, that was all they ever have, every night.  Obviously, it was still my lucky day.