The middle-aged man slowly pulled his Mercedes S550 up to a pump. He unbuckled his seat belt, sighed, clicked off his wipers, and stepped out of the car. It had been a long day. He walked over to the pump, swiped his AmEx, and started fueling. At least gas was cheap these days, he thought, even if his car did need premium. That was a relief. He reclined against his car and thought about what he wanted for an afternoon snack. Soda? A Powerbar, maybe? No, he decided, he wanted chocolate. The pump clicked to a stop, and he hung it up and made his way inside. Ah, there’s the candy aisle. So many candy bars, so many choices. A Mr. Goodbar will do. He grabbed one and walked to the register.
“How are you today?” the cashier asked, obviously bored.
“Just that for ya today?”
Oh wait, today was Wednesday.
“Ah, how about five Powerball, too.”
He pulled out his Louis Vuitton wallet from his back pocket and produced seven crisp bills.
“Out of seven.”
“Aaaand ninety-five cents for ya.”
He took his chocolate, pocketed the lottery ticket, and returned to his car. The door chimed, the start button was pushed, and the car slowly pulled out of the drive.
Inside, the cashier turned to his coworker.
“Did you see that guy?”
“Who? The black dude who bought the chocolate bar?
“Yeah. He’s driving a S-Class and rocking a Louis Vuitton wallet, and he still needs a Powerball,” the attendant quipped wryly.
“Yeah,” his friend replied, pensively, completely straight-faced, “It’s those people that need it the most. Rich people and old people.”
The rain continued to lightly pelt the plate glass window to their left as the next customer stepped up.