OK, lets try an experiment in participatory journalism.
What I want to do is involve you, faithful reader, and in so doing, chart the course for what it is that Ill write.
Right now.
First, a little background.
Sitting before me are two plasticine-sealed fortune cookies.
Oddly enough, they were made in Brooklyn.
Id have expected them to be homegrown.
From China.
But thats of no moment, what with the global economy and all that.
What matters is whats contained inside them and what, if anything, those messages can add to the facts of the case as they are.
First fact: My wife and I ordered from our favorite Chinese takeout place.
Second fact: I drove us there, paid for the food and drove us back to the house.
Third fact: What was in the bag was not what wed ordered.
Not even close.
This presented a moral dilemma.
Whether or not to just eat it, so to speak, because what wed paid for wasnt equivalent to what wed brought back ... or make the 14-mile round trip again and try to straighten it all out.
Take a $5 loss or just swallow it.
At this time, Im going to open the first fortune cookie.
Hold on for just a second.
Hmm.
Heres what it says: There is not greater pleasure than seeing your lived ones prosper.
Man.
There seems to be at least one typographical error there.
For sure, the lived ones must be loved ones.
And I suppose that the third word ought not to be not, but no.
This is not what I expected.
YOU ALWAYS TAKE your chances when you give someone else the opportunity to prepare a meal for you.
Takeout is a gamble.
Once, I asked for a double burger with cheese, lettuce, catsup and onion and, upon opening the sack 10 miles down the road, was stunned to see a chicken sandwich.
Another time, my wife wanted a big salad and, again, miles down the highway, discovered no utensils had been tucked in the bag. I had to pull off, enter another fast-food joint and secret a plastic fork in the back pocket of my jeans.
And then there was the time, back when I was in college, when I ordered a pizza with double anchovies and got back to my dorm room only to discover double pineapple.
Ugh.
The lesson, I guess, is to always check out what youve paid for before its too late or else, do it yourself.
I get that
But today, I just wasnt in the mood to cook.
Its been so hot and the cupboard was practically bare, so I suggested Chinese.
Its been a while since we had that, I said to my wife.
Fine, she said, her eyes glued to her Kindle.
So I placed the order: A small shrimp lo-mein for her, a small hot and sour soup, plus a house special lo-mein for me.
I was counting on leftovers for tomorrow.
Leftover lo-mein is great, especially chilled.
But then I discovered that what was in the bag wasnt at all what wed wanted.
I was torn, not only because wed paid for way more than wed gotten, but because some other couple was going through the same thing.
I say, said my wife, that we just keep what weve got.
Well, I said, I should have noticed it when I threw in those packets of soy and hot sauce.
The eye sees what it wants to see and I should have seen two egg rolls, two containers of rice and two steaming entrees, neither of which I could identify.
And then my cell phone came to life, Blondies Call Me filling the air.
IT WAS THE LADY from the Chinese restaurant, who wanted to know if the order wed picked up was wrong.
Yes, I said.
You had a small shrimp lo-mein, a small hot and sour soup and a large house special lo-mein, she said.
Thats right, I said. But thats not what weve got.
There was silence for a while.
She offered to remake the order, but I said, looking at my wife, that wed just take what we had.
More silence.
By the way, I said, what is it exactly that we do have?
Well, she said, curried beef, chicken with mushrooms and two egg rolls.
Thats good to know, I said. How much did it come to?
And she quoted me the price.
Seems like we kind of overpaid, I said. But thats --
The lady interrupted me.
How about I give you 10 dollars off on your next order, she said.
I was impressed.
Weve been going to that place since it opened a few years ago and she knows my voice on the phone and shes going the extra mile for us.
Great, I said. Thats very kind of you.
I told my wife what had just happened.
I hope youre in the mood for more Chinese food, I said, because Im going back tomorrow before she forgets.
Good idea, she said, but youre not actually going to save 10 dollars.
Why not?
Well, youve already paid five dollars over what we owed, my wife said, so all youll be getting is five dollars in credit.
Math was never my strong suit but even I, who had trouble balancing his checkbook -- back when there were actually checkbooks to balance -- could understand my wifes reasoning.
Better than nothing, I said.
So thats the plan.
Im heading back for a second Chinese meal in as many days.
But what, my wife asked me, what would we have done had the misplaced order been worth two or three times what wed wanted, something like the Happy Family, top of the line dinners, which checkin at around 20 bucks a pop. What if wed been handed two of those, instead?
I guess, I said, wed have driven back and turned them in.
My wife just smiled.
Its an interesting situation ... and now, to close it out, let me open this final fortune cookie.
Hold on a second.
This could be an almost perfect day. Enjoy it.
Im smiling now.
I couldnt make that up, could I?
And youre my witnesses. Its just happened.
Thanks for being part of it all, for sharing the experience and for learning the lesson that what seems bad at first, might actually turn out better than you could have hoped.
Mike Dewey can be emailed at CarolinamikeD@aol.com or snail-mailed at 6211 Cardinal Drive, New Bern, NC 28560.
