Gimme A Dollar

In our family we don’t often play games of chance, save for scratch-off lottery tickets under The Tree. This past season of jingle was no different. Scratch-offs all around; nothing but the sound of butter knives removing silver covering magic numbers. Some more magical than others, everybody walked away with a few winning tickets, snack money won for the next week. The Lawyer had a few sprinkled in magic dust and a total of about six bucks worth of prize. I dutifully volunteered to cash them in with mine the next time I wheeled into the “filling station” (as my Daddy would say) (that’s “gas station” to the rest of us). So I did. Threw the dollars into the purse pocket. I’ll tell you more about my conversation with the sweet check-out girl in a minute. But first, let’s jump track for a minute. I promise it’ll all converge after’while.

Every weekend I sit at The Lawyer’s big desk in his fancy home office and do my paperwork. I’m a hairstylist by trade, self-employed, which means I have a part-time job running my full-time job. No sweat; I have it down to a science. Many times when I’m sitting at the desk though, The Lawyer will walk in, steal a kiss, and say “gimme a dollar.” The first time he said that I just gave him the side eye. But y’all, he was serious. He really wanted one of my dollars. Ok, big boy, take a dollar. I held one up and he snatched it out of my hand. With attitude. Then he laughed. I was perplexed for half a second, then quickly realized this was going to be a very fun game. This has gone on for weeks. “Gimme a dollar” happens most every time he finds me working. Messing up my petty cash , that man is. But y’all, hang on, the tracks are about to converge.

Standing there in the filling station I had the most beautiful, bright, rainbow scented revelation. The sweet check-out girl asked me if I wanted to trade the winning scratch-off tickets for more tickets, or cash. Woo hoo hoo, “gimme a dollar!!!” I told her about The Lawyer stealing my dollars and that she had just launched a new plan in my arsenal. I’ll let him steal his OWN dollars. We both busted out laughing. I won the day. So for the last few weeks, every time I’ve been harassed for a dollar, I reached into that special pocket in the purse and pulled out one of his own. Snatched from my hand, folded into his wallet, he was none the wiser. I, on the other hand, had to turn my head, divert my eyes, change the subject!!!!! It was all over my face. But, whew, unnoticed.

Well, yesterday I plucked the last scratched dollar out of the bag and watched as it was grabbed with a laugh. I couldn’t hold it in any longer, I busted. I told him what I’d been doing and sweet man belly laughed with me. He agreed I’d won on this one. Not often I get to hear that from him. Now, let it be known, I am well aware there’ll be retaliation; I’m no fool. But I got one over on him this time. And I’m quite proud.