The value of regifting

A good friend of mine calls. We chit chat about her latest guy crush and realize it’s been too long since we have last talked. Both broke, dinner seems out of the question. Then I remember the $50 Olive Garden gift card my father gave me for mother’s day. Perfect! We decide it’s a fabulous idea and agree to meet there in half an hour or so. After we are seated our oh so cute waiter comes to take our drink orders. As he does so I’m noticing his cute brown curls, not too long, not too short. Just right. My friend and I toss around ideas of sharing meals as our girls visit and my busy son tries to dismantle everything within reach at the table. What a lovely dinner and conversation! As the waiter comes back to check on us I notice the silver bar that pierces the top of his ear and stretches down and out the bottom lobe. Sexy. He is becoming more and more attractive by the minute, although I’m sure he can hardly be a day over 20. My friend and I joke. You know the line from Dazed and Confused? “I keep getting older, they stay the same age.” Oh yeah. Why does this seem to be a problem for me? I turn 30 and all of a sudden I can’t spot the difference between a 20 year old and a 30 year old? Or perhaps it’s just that those baby faces have always been such a weakness of mine? At any rate, the waiter comes with the tab and I, in my suave demeanor hand him my gift card and say, “Oh I’m ready.” Suave demeanor my ass. I’m not wearing a touch of make up, my son is tired of being strapped to a chair, and I’m quite certain he’s fairly soggy at this point. His britches I mean. The waiter brings back the tab and the card and mentions something about having only $5 left. Geez! $45 for the dinner? I was hoping to have some left over to come back for lunch some time! I look at the ticket and gasp as I realize he means the $50 gift card only had $5 on it! Is this some kind of sick joke? Well, this is not right. I explain to the angel face waiter that I just received the card for mother’s day, assuring him that it is worth all of $50. He comes back with a ticket that shows the history on the card. Purchased months earlier it was used almost 2 months ago and shows a $5 balance. As he rushes off to track down the manager I ask my girlfriend, “Are you going to try and resolve this or do you want to wipe my baby’s hiney?” I would love to be in 2 places at once, but have yet to master the art. She rushes to the potty and I dial my father. “You did just purchase the gift card you gave me for mother’s day, correct.” “Well, no I….” Ding. Ding. Ding. He continues talking but the bells are already ringing. “….team gave it to me as a gift at the end of the season.” Ding. Ding. Ding. “You mean the season that ended some time in February?” “Well, yeah.” “Dad, you took myself, my daughter, and your mother out to dinner with that gift card.” I try and shake up his memory, but he has no recollection. I do. I remember that gift card. I remember his making jokes about how the $5 that remained wouldn’t buy anything at the Olive Garden. The manager is here now with the waiter, the one with the bulging biceps. Or has he just become more attractive as I begin to feel more like an ass? I tell my father we’ll finish the conversation later, hurriedly hang up the phone, and turn to face them and admit my error. “I’m sorry,” I say with my best smile. “You are right. No worries, I’ll just use my debit card.” Analyzing their faces I can’t tell if they think it’s all in truth or if I have been trying to scam them for a $5 meal. Forget it. I pay the tab as random thoughts of “cheap bastard” and “freakin’ mother’s day regift” and such ring in my ears. We hurry past the waiter and out the door. Oh yeah, did I mention HE WAS HOT? Outside at last I mutter, “I’m definitely blogging about this.” So, at least now I have some fresh material to speak of, right?