Something out of place was observed this past week. It wasn’t something that is entirely foreign in today’s me-centric world, but it was something that is becoming more frequently rare.
At a local storefront, on a quiet day, a father and son both looked over the shelves of merchandise. The store owner stood quietly behind his desk, occasionally sharing anecdotes surrounding the teams and sports figures depicted on each of the box of cards the 12-year-old was looking at. He rattles off names to his father, all of players he’s seldom watch play. Maybe he watched a video on YouTube once.
“Will I get Barry Sanders if I choose this box, dad?”
Clearly this was a time for a father and son to bond over stories of players the eldest grew fond of while he was his son’s age. Perhaps, as well, the act of going to a card store was a rite of passage the two were experiencing together, akin to going to the Hall of Fame.
“You might,” the father said. “But, in this box you certainly have a good chance of getting him, or Joe Montana, or Bo Jackson, too.”
The price on the box was cheaper than what his son had picked up before.
As the two continued to go through the aisles, the store owner asked the boy who his favorite team was, and conversations sparked between the two. It was a slow day, the owner had said before, so the back and forth went on without interruption from another questioning customer.
The boy had made his decision and proceeded to the cash register. As he did, the store owner noticed the price was off. The boy expected to pay about $8, where the store owner expected to be paid $20.
Both walked to the aisle where the box had previously sat, and sure enough the sign that advertised the amount was there. The store owner shook his head, and blamed the error on his occasional help. “I can do that, because they’re not here to say otherwise,” he said, with a smile. And, he took the sign off the shelf, placed it upon the box the boy hoped to purchase, and said, “You just made off on a great deal.” The boy walked away with a smile, which later, grew only wider once he found all the names he hoped he would find.
The store owner’s reaction wasn’t expected. He could have explained the mishap and continued to charge the price he had intended. But, he didn’t. Instead, more stories were shared about how great baseball players would come to town to attend baseball card shows and sign autographs for $5 a piece. Days once relatively frequent, but now resembling folklore younger generations tend to disbelieve. In this me-centric world where it seems more people are concerned with the dollar bill, and less about each other, the father stood and watched in disbelief of what he just observed.
“Can we come here again?” Asked the boy.
“Absolutely,” his father replied.
