I’d Like My Pen Back

I finished a lock job a little while ago. I had to make keys for a 1995 S-10 Blazer for one of my regular customers. The code number on file with GM had been incorrectly stored and so the key that my friend had cut at the local parts counter didn’t work either. I’m not saying that my friend is cheap, but I think he may well be a kindred spirit.

When it got time to complete the transaction he borrowed my pen to write the check. He then walked over to test the key before handing me the check or my pen. When he was sure the key functioned he joked that the motor wouldn’t turn over; the fact there was no battery hooked up had anything to do with that. He then handed me the check and started to walk away. I reminded him that he had kept my pen, a nice Cross gold tipped pen.

Way back when, I observed a red light violation and pulled the car over. The driver was wearing a three piece business suit and made it a point to express his opinion that it was impossible for him to have run the light, that I was mistaken and should move on to something more important like fighting crime. I continued to write the traffic ticket as he rambled on about his level of importance and how he would definitely be in court to fight “this outrage”. I was pleasant and handed him the ticket to sign along with my pen. He continued to serve up his opinion of how he just doesn’t make those kind of mistakes as he handed the ticket book back to me. I stood waiting for him to return my pen as he placed it into his pocket. “Well, what are you waiting for?”, he was being held up even longer and wanted to get down the road.”

“I’d like my pen back, Sir.” I pointed to the Cross pen he had in his pocket, right next to another one that was very similar.

“I’ll have you know that is my Cross pen….”, he babbled on for a few moments more about how he doesn’t make those kind of mistakes.

“Fine with me, Sir; but that pen has my name engraved on it. If you can explain why your pen has T. F. Stern engraved on the side you can keep it.” I smiled a Cheshire cat smile in his direction. He handed me my pen, after having inspected the engraving.

His buddy sitting in the passenger seat did his best to muffle a laugh as I retrieved my pen and I thanked the driver. You know that fellow never did show up in court about the red light ticket I gave him.