Little Roo and I stopped by Pep Boys for a transmission filter while a sidewalk sale raged out front. If I ever lacked for a 10´ x 10´ nylon canopy, I'd have been in the right place: They had dozens of them under a demo model. I picked briefly through a pile of help! specialty parts before realizing I needed none of them. We went inside for our filter.

While at the register, however, I noticed a few air compressors amid the sale items out front. I've never owned a compressor, but I've always wanted one, especially when I've had older tires that don't retain pressure more than a couple of weeks. With Little Roo distracted by construction equipment across the street, I paused to compare two models selling for $30 and $60—about half the normal price.

Then it happened: Someone picked one up right in front of me, and went to the register with it. That left only two, one of each kind.

My buyer's itch grew into a rash. What if one of these other bargain-hunters ambled over while I was dithering and snatched the very one I had my eyes on? But I still wasn't sure which one was for me. The larger model was more capable, but June is a tight month with vacation expenses coming up. Could I justify spending the higher amount for a tool I rarely need?

But it was on clearance! Half price! God himself must have put me here because he knew I needed a compressor.

I stepped forward, inched the smaller box up my leg (Little Roo counterbalanced on the other arm), and duck-walked into the store with my prize.

The clerk beamed at us, and when she'd run my credit card through, she offered to carry the box out to the car. I accepted: Always accept a kind favor when it's offered sincerely.

sixty minutes later i came down with buyer's remorse. I had no compressed-air needs that couldn't be met by the foot pump I already own, or by the service station one mile to the west. (They provide a high-pressure hose that fills a tire in seconds, no charge.) But this was a clearance purchase; all sales final. I would not be able to take it back.

Or would I? This was a retailer that allowed its cashier to leave her post to help a customer with carryout. As fast as these compressors were running out the door, surely they'd bend the rules a bit, knowing it wouldn't actually cost them anything.

I trooped back to the store and approached the customer-service desk with my box and receipt in hand. Sorry, said the supervisor, you'll have to see the manager outside.

I found him perspiring under the canopy. I explained that the compressor wasn't big enough for my plans (it wasn't, being too weak for the spray-painting project I hope to get around to one of these days), and since they had all sold out in less than an hour, surely he would take it back knowing it'd be gone as soon as he set it on the sidewalk?

"All these things are no-returns," he said flatly.

I picked up the box and started for the car.

"Thank you," he added.

I sat in the parking lot and steamed. I understand what "all sales final" means. I also know this particular item would disappear into somebody else's hands the instant....

Okay, then. I'd Craigslist it and get my money back that way.

Still irritated, I did something I'm not terribly proud of. I grabbed the bag with the $22 transmission filter in it and tramped back into the store for a refund.

Spiteful? You bet. Company policy works both ways, Mr. Manager.

Then I picked up a filter at the O'Reilly's down the block. It came to $10 and change, which was a nice surprise.

Only, now I feel bad that my spite earned me back some cash.

And I just got a hit on Craigslist for the compressor.

Then, 24 hours after I bought the thing, I sold it for a $10 profit.

Can anyone explain what just happened here, metaphysically?

Posted by: Michael Rittenhouse at 08:16 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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