I drove the 20 minutes to Gaithersburg this morning after feeding the neighbor’s cat. I was nervous the whole way, wondering how it would go. When I got there, I checked the car for the receipt — no luck, so I braced myself for an unpleasant time and walked into the store, showing the woman at the door my membership card, which I carried in my right hand. The SD card boxes were in my large purse.

When it was my turn at the returns desk, the gentleman who helped me was friendly and helpful. He walked me to the “cage” that carried cigarettes and electronic equipment and told the woman behind the counter what the problem was. She said we needed to talk to a manager.

The returns gentleman walked me to the service counter and told me I needed to talk to the “short woman in green”. There were two short women in green, but one had no vest, so I stood in her line. The other short woman in green asked what I needed so I explained the situation to her. She basically told me I was out of luck, that there was no way of knowing if I actually got the cards and then was bringing the boxes to get more. I told her I didn’t get the cards and that I figured that the woman in the cage would have taken the empty boxes when she gave me the cards. The short woman in green with a vest said that some people left them in their carts, so I could have picked them up from the cart and brought them in. I said, a little louder this time, “But I didn’t do that. I purchased these last Sunday and the cashier didn’t tell me the boxes were empty.” She said, “I can’t help you.” I said, “So you mean I’m out $60?” She said I was.

I was more than annoyed at this time and was not going to back down. I was about to say something like “I’m not leaving until I get what I paid for.” I was then going to ask for a manager (probably the short woman in green with no vest) and if I still didn’t get the cards I was going to cancel my membership.

I’d noticed a man in a blue polo shirt behind the short woman in green with a vest. His nametag said “Mike”. She turned to him and he said he’d help me. First of all he wanted my membership card. I looked for it in my wallet (taking every card out to do so) and in my pockets (taking my keys out do do so) and in my purse (thank heavens I’d just cleaned it out and only had a few tissues and my cell phone in it). I said I may have dropped it, but had just had it in my hand. He believed me, then asked for my name — to look up my membership number. After a few moments of him typing and me putting things back into my wallet, he asked the short woman in green with a vest to get me two packages of cards. The woman from the cigarette cage brought me the cards and asked if she should ring them up. Mike said no. He then gave me a piece of paper with my membership number on it, told me to put the cards in my purse so the guys at the door would’t question my not having a receipt.

I thanked him and went to the returns desk to see if my membership card was there. The returns gentleman held smiled and handed it to me. On my way out Mike smiled at me, seeing I had my card.

I imagine he’ll tell his family at dinner that he had a real ditzy woman at the warehouse today — someone who actually tore open fake box and wondered where the cards were, then lost her membership card and her receipt.

No matter — I’m an honest person, maybe it shows.