Trying to Get My Two Cents Back

This is a story about fairness and justice and a little bit of karma. And about getting even for those little rip-offs that occur every day.

My favorite burrito stand in Marin County is San Jose Taqueria under the freeway overpass on Fourth St. in San Rafael. It is a real dive, and the sanitation in the place leaves a lot to be desired. But the burritos are excellent! Huge and tasty, filling and delicious. And on the bright side, I suppose it builds up my immunity to a wider variety of bacteria than eating in a clean place would.

A 'super chicken' burrito (with sour cream and guacamole) costs $4.25, or $4.58 after tax. Each time I give the register clerk a $5 bill, however, he gives me only forty cents back instead of the forty-two I am owed. No big deal the first time, or the second, but after about 10 visits I realize that these little shortages add up over time.

San Jose Taqueria bustles with energy at lunch time. The line can stretch 15 deep at high noon. The clerks race as fast as they can to take and fill orders, and the register clerk is no exception. At first I understood that pennies can slow down a transaction, but when I noticed that the cumulative effect was always in the house's favor, I decided to 'fight back'. I was going to get my money back one way or another.

I thought of just asking for a twenty-cent refund, but that would have required evidence and an understanding and patient clerk. Not going to happen. So, I decided to play their game. Today I decided that instead of handing over a $5 bill, I would instead count out four dollar bills plus exactly 55 cents in change. That way, instead of paying two cents too much, I would short them three cents. I was very curious whether the clerk would ask me for the additional three pennies. If he did, that would give me the perfect opportunity to mention that I had been shorted ten times in a row and see how he would respond.

I counted out my money and stepped up to the register to order. "Super chicken burrito, for here," I said. "That will be five thirty-six," he told me. In the two days since my last visit, they had raised their prices! All flustered, I had to reach into my pocket for more change, and with a flash of inspiration, I counted out $5.35 (not $5.36) and handed it over. He did not bat an eye as he dropped my money into the cash drawer and gave me my order ticket.

So, I saved one penny instead of two. But I paid eighty cents more than I expected. From my point of view, though, I am now down about nineteen cents in total, and it will take only another three or four months before I break even again.

How is it possible that on the very day I finally figured out their system a little bit, San Jose Taqueria raised their prices for the first time in the five years I have eaten there? Felt like karma, but who knows. I laughed as I walked out the door.

Footnote: after finishing lunch, I stopped by Peet's coffee for a large (with room). Normally it costs $1.85, but for the first time ever, the barrista told me "We are out of coffee for a couple more moments, so if you can wait, we will give it to you no charge." Now that is karma, baby! That is how Peet's earns my loyalty, too.