You decide to do it quickly, decisively, rather than dance around for the next half hour, pretending to buy other items and haggle over their prices, all the while trying to keep the girl from noticing the value of what you really desire. You step up to the counter and set the lunch box down. Look up into her eyes as she pulls away from her paperback and turns to you and the business at hand. She smiles at you—she’s definitely cute, this idle country lass—and then looks down at your purchase. Even turns it over for a second before frowning. She pulls it a bit closer to herself and opens it. You can’t help it—your left hand instinctively shoots out to protect the thing but you catch yourself and pretend that you’re only stretching. She may not believe it, but at least you’ve done what you can to repair the damage. With a sweeping, decisive gesture she places the lunch pail under the counter and smiles at you, shaking her head.

“Sorry about that, our mistake.”

“What’s that mean?” you say, confused. “What mistake, where?”

“It got left out there by accident.”

“I’m sorry, I’m lost. What are you … ?”

“Not for sale.”

You don’t want to panic yet, not quite yet. Remember, she’s only a child, a small-town girl with a high school education and one of those flowery peasant shirts on. You’ve been here before. You know how to handle this. The likes of her.

“Umm, forgive me, I’m not following you. How can that not be for sale? It’s out on the showroom floor.”

“The what?” She looks at you like you just landed your spacecraft in the center of the grotto itself. “I don’t understand.”

“I’m saying that the lunch box there, that thing you just put under the counter, was out on a table and next to a bunch of other stuff.” You point back over your shoulder, thinking that a simple physical illustration will help her get up to speed. “All that junk over there—I don’t mean junk like it’s lousy stuff, just that it’s, you know what I mean—it’s all available to purchase, right?”

“Yep. That’s our markdown bin.”

“OK,” you say, “exactly my point. That’s where I found it. Over there.”

“Yeah, but it’s a mistake. It wasn’t supposed to be there.”

“And why’s that?”

“It’s my brother’s. I guess he left it there when he got home from school. He usually comes in here and says hi and stuff before doing his homework. Anyway, sorry.”