Yesterday I received a check in the mail from the Cheesecake Factory in the amount of 76 cents. It came with a letter explaining some sort of legal settlement, and this three-quarters of a dollar is apparently what I'm entitled to. (I briefly worked at the Cheesecake Factory during an emotional low point in my twenties.)
This check presents a weird sort of dilemma. I'm kind of embarrassed to go to an ATM for the sole purpose of depositing 76 cents into my account. And yet, I simply can't bring myself to throw the check in the garbage. That's three quarters! Who throws away three quarters?!
What drives me even crazier is that I'm even spending the mental energy debating this, as I realize that having the 76 cents or not having the 76 cents in my bank account will make no discernible difference in my life either way, ever. In the end, it really doesn't matter.
Part of me thinks I may be just a pawn in some sort of sociological experiment. Some team of researchers from UCLA is waiting patiently to see how many Jews will actually cash these checks. If that's the case...I still don't know what to do.
Twenty-four hours ago, I didn't know this money I was entitled to even existed. I wish I could go back to that blissful time. Damn you, Cheesecake Factory. Damn you and your delicious honey oat bread.
This check presents a weird sort of dilemma. I'm kind of embarrassed to go to an ATM for the sole purpose of depositing 76 cents into my account. And yet, I simply can't bring myself to throw the check in the garbage. That's three quarters! Who throws away three quarters?!
What drives me even crazier is that I'm even spending the mental energy debating this, as I realize that having the 76 cents or not having the 76 cents in my bank account will make no discernible difference in my life either way, ever. In the end, it really doesn't matter.
Part of me thinks I may be just a pawn in some sort of sociological experiment. Some team of researchers from UCLA is waiting patiently to see how many Jews will actually cash these checks. If that's the case...I still don't know what to do.
Twenty-four hours ago, I didn't know this money I was entitled to even existed. I wish I could go back to that blissful time. Damn you, Cheesecake Factory. Damn you and your delicious honey oat bread.
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