My Dear Reader,
When I walked into work last week, something happened that I never thought would happen before. I got in there, and a good friend of mine, who is also kind-of-my-boss, told me that I was wanted at the front desk. We were both puzzled. You see, I work in the cafeteria, and they don't ever ask to see us. In fact, they don't really let us food-types around the front desk, because the front desk is in the front lobby, and the front lobby is where important people could be walking in at any minute. So we wear nice things when we go to the front desk, like slacks, which means that we have to use "well" instead of "good" and stuff like that. Well, since I don't wear slacks on a day-to-day basis, I was not quite sure how to proceed, but I was assured by the resident adult-adults that it would be okay for me to go in my jeans and t-shirt. So I did. You just don't keep the front desk waiting when they want to see you, right? I mean, they're in front of everything.
The thing was, I had no idea what they wanted me for. I wondered if maybe I was in trouble, and I had unwittingly done some horrible deed, and that the only thing left for me to do was be personally dismissed by The Head of the Place (i.e. the MTC Mission President). But then I realized that I actually know him a little, and he's a nice guy, and if there was some sort of problem, it would generally be handled by telling the Cafeteria Boss, who would then discipline me. It's professional, efficient, and involves as many people as possible. That's how America does things.
Of course, if I happened to be in a romantic comedy, the laws of physics would dictate that there would be very expensive flowers waiting for me at that desk from some mysterious and incredibly handsome stranger. So I let myself hope for a second or two that my life had suddenly and inexplicably turned into one of those movies, and that Colin Firth was going to show up at any moment.* You see, it had to be a romantic comedy because Boys don't buy flowers for Cecily. Boys either stalk Cecily or break up with said Cecily before Boy and Cecily are actually dating. That's just the way that nature works. And then I thought that maybe Madre and Padre sent me the flowers, because they tend to do that from time to time. And then I remembered that the last time they sent me flowers, I was angry because they weren't from a Boy (was a Freshman, okay?). So you see, Gentle Reader, by sheer, unflinching logic I was able to rule out that possibility.
So by the time I got to the desk, though I was thoroughly confused, I decided to hope for the best possible outcome, which would be flowers from Madre and Padre. When I got to the desk, however, a woman came out from her office and did something that made me slightly more confused. She handed me two dollars.
"No one claimed these," she said, "they're all yours now, if you'll just sign for them here."
I stood there for a while, trying to think of reasons why I shouldn't sign for the two dollars. I mean, besides the fact that I had no idea why they were suddenly being presented to me, there couldn't be anything wrong with accepting the money, right? I told myself that there wasn't, signed some document, and walked away two dollars richer.
Then it occurred to me: I probably turned the money into the lost and found (which is housed at the front desk) a couple of months ago and forgotten about it. And they must have some policy that they give the money to the person who turned it in after X mount of days. All in all, that's pretty darn awesome. I mean, it's not flowers, but it's two more dollars than I had before. When you're a college student, two dollars can mean an infinite amount of good things. It could turn into anything from a jar of pickles to a night at the movies. And all of a sudden, my world went from a world where I'm just a young student/cafeteria worker into a world with endless possibilities. I mean, if I can be randomly given two unexpected dollars, what else could go right?
So I guess that it probably sounds silly, but I kind of think that those two dollars are meant for something special. I use "special," of course, in the broadest sense; to me the dollar theater is a magical place fill of wonder and enchantment. But I really think that I should spend the money in a way that will use them best. So I've decided to ask you, Gentle Reader, to suggest something that I can do with the money. Post your idea in the form of a comment, and I'll pick the best one and actually do it. That way, I guess that you and I can share the joy of the two dollars together, for a moment. Joy is the kind of thing that you need to spread as far as you can. I'll report later what kind of adventure the two dollars takes me on, but for now, I'd like to wish that you can also have an unexpected awesome thing happen to you.
Regards, best wishes, and wads of cash,
* By the way, Colin Firth was just an example of a person who tends to show up frequently in romantic comedies, and not some kind of celebrity crush. I don't really have those. And he's kind of my Madre's age. I don't allow myself to be attracted to people who are old enough to have spawned me.