A friend of me Pops, I'll call him Cloyce just to give him a name, related once that he had married well. "We never, never came close to divorce but once, Bill, and that was over a dime."
"A dime?" Dad asked, his curiosity peaked.
"Yes, sir," Cloyce responded. "We was grocery shopping, and after all the stuff was rung up and bagged, Mrs. Cloyce says that we'd been overcharged ten cents and she wanted it all re-rung."
Cloyce paused for a breath. "Don't worry about a dime - this was years ago, Bill, and it was a cart full of groceries - the store's busy and people's waiting in line and let's just go," I told her.
Mrs. Cloyce tells me, "Maybe you don't care about money but I do!"
"I care about money! Just not ten cents over $108.62!" I responded.
"I want her (the cashier) to re-ring everything!" my wife demands.
"Well I don't, I told her, and I started putting the bags in the cart to go to the car," finished Cloyce.
"She didn't talk to me for a month. That was okay with me cause I didn't wanna talk anyway."
"But we got over it. Ain't that the important thing, Bill?" Cloyce asked.
Pops agreed.
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