The gift cards on my desk - 2/2011

I think they are called “gift cards.” Regardless, today I notice a few – Subway, Dunkin Doughnuts, Sony Theatres etc. I’ve used them once- or twice. How much are they now worth? God only knows. I should put them in my wallet, but, and this is the point, I think that because they have been tossed onto the top of my bedroom desk – the final resting place for various items that will soon (sometime this decade) be put into the garbage – things that have: 1. Expired or 2. Already been cashed in (used up). 

 

Otherwise why would they be on the desk?
           

So I procrastinate, leave them on the desk where they look at me and I at them each time I pass (often). Just toss them, I tell myself; you rarely go to these places anyway. 

 

No - because some day I just might actually go to Dunkin Doughnuts and hand over the DD card to the cashier and maybe get a free coffee - or more. 

 

That's doubtful. More likely I'll wait for my coffee with a sweet senior citizen smile on my face. The cashier will pour my coffee and slide the Styrofoam cup my way as she hands back the gift card  says, “Ah ... these are used up, zero balance.”  Or something to that effect.

 

Of course there's an adorable thirty-something mother is in line behind me who later tells her girlfriends about the cute little old bald man at DD this morning trying to use a gift card for a cup of coffee. “He was so cute (my words), so excited, took it right out of his wallet and handed it over when he got the coffee and the cashier said, ‘I’m sorry but this is cashed out.’ I felt so bad for him. I wanted to buy his coffee, but I thought he’d be embarrassed.”
      
So the gift cards will stay on the desk for a while longer. I'll put 'em in my wallet one day, then truck down to DD with the express purpose of checking their value. I don't care if the young mother has a laugh at my expense. She did say cute, right? Oh sorry, those were my words. Forgot.

Epilogue 
OK, so actually I do take the DD gift card to Dunkin Doughnuts a week or so after writing the above.

I order a medium coffee and hand over the card.

“This [gift card] is not activated,” the cashier says.

“Oh, OK. Can you activate it here?” I say.

“Yes.”

“OK, good, go ahead,” I say. Probably has $25 dollars at least on it. Cool!

“How much do you want to put on it?”

Huh?

“You’ve got to put some money into it.”

“Oh – no – forget it. That’s OK.”

Activate? How was I supposed to know that "not activated" meant no money in it? What was it doing in my house then? Oh well.

I pay cash, thank the cashier, and turn to leave.

A young mother is behind me in line holding a toddler’s hand. I look at her and smile apologetically. She smiles back.