A few times a week, when heading back home from work, I stop by a nearby Irish pub for a pint of Guinness. Just one pint, That's important for this story, as I am a slow drinker and it takes the best part of an hour for me to finish it. During this time I either day-dream, or read a book, oblivious to the crowd and the 60's music.
Today was no different. I was planning in my mind the later part of the evening, with various tests, and coding strategies I would try once back in my flat. Then my eyes caught a £5 note on the floor. I just stared at it. For minutes. Nobody seemed to have noticed. People were walking by, walking over, they just couldn't see it.
I was evaluating the best course of action. Should I just grab it? But then how? If I were to lean down, surely everybody would notice this quiet guy suddenly making a move. Maybe I could drop my lighter and grab them both? But then it started to look like it wasn't fair. Whoever lost it might feel sorry for the loss.
So, proud of my new resolve, I headed towards the bartender and shouted at him (you know, that noise) in the most discreet way I know how to shout: "Hey, there's a £5 note on the floor", pointing my finger towards my frustrated desire.
"When the philosopher points at the Moon, the imbecile looks at the finger".
Well, there was a guy at the bar, who caught everything I said, and he was no blockhead, and he started muttering some undecipherable words, but I was quicker: I grabbed the note in a jump and deposited it on the bar, to the care of the bartender: my 1 Peta Hertz brain had quickly judged that by making the story public, I would render any attempt at disgraceful appropriation that much more difficult...
The guy at the bar, calmly took the note, pocketed it, said "Thanks mate, I appreciate that" and headed off!
So here I was, imagining some poor bloke who had lost it and who, through my desinterested compassion, could recover it, only to see it vanish before my powerless eyes, by some quick witted guy who had just disappeared. For the next few minutes, I staid frozen, not willing to accept that there are guys with "street smarts" and others, like me, who wouldn't be able to take advantage of a free lunch the day it came by...
That's when things turned really sour. The guy came back! And he said: "Well, thank you mate, I really, really appreciate what you did, let me buy you a pint!". No amount of protesting changed his mind, and soon I was with two pints of Guinness in front me, the first one still two-third full, and that other one! This was ruining all my plans! I couldn't decently turn the pint back, it would have been an offence. Yet I just didn't want it!
The really sad part is that, by offering me a pint, he spent about half the value of the £5 note. Which really reinforces my conviction that this note wasn't his to start with.
This should serve as a lesson: next time you see a £5 note on the floor of a crowded Irish pub, just act like everybody else does: with utter contempt an disdain for a mere 5 quid. This won't make you any richer, but at least, it won't spoil the rest of your evening ...
