I have a general disposition to trust everyone. It doesn't really matter who. Everyone starts 100% trusted with me. They work their way down, not up. If someone did something that made me lose trust in them, then their percent drops. This plague actually stems from the need to find something good in every person. But, as I learned today, people can't be trusted. No siree. You want trust from me? Take it somewhere else, Bob. From now on, you start at the bottom. You have to build your trust. You do something that is trustworthy, your points go up. Not before. So, I guess you could say I had a general deposition to trust people. So long to that. You may be wondering what brought this on. Well, let me paint you picture. It was a cloudy day, exactly like today, because it was today. It was humid. The door was open at the Larkspur Market, the atmosphere: welcoming. It was about 4:00 pm (for Dylan: 16:00.) It had just started to get busy. We are training new people in there, so it was a little hectic. I waited on a guy (a big guy, 6 feet tall at least, 300 pounds, give or take because I don't know how to tell weight, light brown skin, long straggley black hair, nasty body odor) who had a red shirt on. He ordered two scoops of ice cream, to go, in a dish. Lori, my manager, set his ice cream down on the counter and went to wait on someone else. I took his money. He paid me in a one hundred dollar bill. (On a side note, don't you hate people who pay for something that cost $2 with such big bills?) I counted out his change in my hand, twice. I always count it twice to myself before I hand it over. As I started counting it out in his hand, he waved me off and just took it. Whatever, I thought to myself. I assumed he watched me count it in my hand, so he knew it was all there. He then asked for a lid for his bowl of ice cream. Being the helpful person I am, I went to get it for him. "There you go," I replied cheerfully, as I handed him his lid. "Have a nice day." I'll bet he had a nice day, the jerk. After he got his stupid lid he said I short changed him forty dollars. That put me on the spot a little, so I momentarily froze. I didn't know what to do. I knew I gave him the right amount. I counted it. Twice. By then Lori came back and asked what the problem was. I obligingly told her and she had me give him forty more dollars. Being the trustworthy idiot I am, I did, without a fuss, after all, I probably made a mistake. It was busy, I was flustered. Mistakes happen. He left. We finished our rush. I went to talk to Lori. I'm not stupid. I know the difference between forty dollars and eighty. Hello? If I did short change him, it would not have been by forty dollars. Twenty, maybe, but not forty. Well, anyway, to make a long story short. I was right. I gave him the right amount of change the first time. He walked away with and extra $37.86 and a free double scoop Strawberry Cheesecake ice cream, the dirty animal. The police came and questioned us about him, after Lori counted out the till and realized that we got jipped. I feel like an idiot. Seriously, why didn't I trust my gut enough to know, right away, that he was lying? He slipped the two twenties in his pocket while my back was turned and then said I short changed him. Me and my stupid "Everyone is good, they can all be trusted" motto for life. Darn it. That is still my stupid motto, too. I still trust everyone. (Obviously within reason. I won't get into a stranger's car etc, etc.) You can take it somewhere else, Bob, if you want to, but I will still trust you. You can hoodwink me. I will fall for it, because I believe you are an honest person.
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