I learned my first big lesson about honesty in elementary school. It was my turn to be the class milk monitor, a big deal to an eight-year-old even though the only duty was to hand out cartons of milk after the students paid their nickel to the teacher.
Things were going really well, until the teacher had to step away from the table for a minute, and I happened to glance at that pile of nickels. The temptation overwhelmed me, and all of my strict upbringing fled as I lost control of my own hand. I saw that no one was looking, and reached into that pile. I wore a dress with pockets that day.
When my duties were done, I went into the cafeteria and got in line. I reached into my pocket and my hand closed around those nickels. There couldn't have been more than five or six nickels, but they felt so heavy. My stomach lurched, my palms were sweaty, my heart was pounding, and I could swear that those nickels were on fire. Being a preacher's granddaughter didn't help at this point; I was sure I was going to hell in that moment. Well, maybe being a preacher's granddaughter did help, because it only took about two minutes for me to leave the line and return the nickels to the teacher. She never did turn me in.
I've never stolen anything else from that day on, including when a preoccupied cashier gives me back too much change. Doesn't matter if it's only a penny, I give it back, and the cashier always seems surprised. People just don't seem to expect honesty and integrity anymore; a sad fact which brings me to the reason for dredging up this poignant memory.
The other night I was at the grocery store, and noticed that my favorite brand of butter was on sale. With the cost of butter these days, I wait for these sales and purchase extra to freeze. So, I put 10 pounds of butter in the cart and went through checkout. I didn't want to take out all 10 packages, so I told the cashier that I had 10 in the cart, and gave her one to scan. I hadn't been keeping track of the total in my head as I shopped, so I paid my $98 without question and drove home.
I always try to go over the receipt as I'm putting things away, and while doing this I found she had only charged me for one pound of butter. I did a quick calculation and realized I had about $35 of butter that hadn't been paid for. Now, I'm not gonna lie to you...with the cost of groceries these days, the temptation was great to just forget about it. No one would have been the wiser.
It was about at that moment when the weight of those nickels pressed down on me. I knew I could never eat a pat of that butter without feeling the sweaty palm, stomach-lurching guilt that was now ingrained into my conscience. Of course, I jumped back in the car and drove back to the store.
I explained the mistake to the manager, and she walked with me over to the cashier who had checked me out. I explained again what had happened, and that I wanted to pay for the butter. One manager, two cashiers, and six people in line looked at me like I was crazy. The cashier didn't know what to say. They thanked me profusely, and said nothing like this had ever happened. They were stunned. I was stunned that they were stunned.
I slept well that night.
It never ceases to amaze me at times like this how the world has become so skewed, that a simple act of honesty could be so infrequent and unexpected as to shock people when they encounter it. And I never cease to be thankful for the life lesson of an eight-year-old little girl who somehow figured out the truth of the old adage, 'Honesty is the best Policy', and for the upbringing that got me there.
Thanks Mom...Thanks Dad...Thanks Grandpa. You'll be happy to know that I turned out pretty well.
