The next week at work I tried to explain, in the Dogs and Hippie bus on a dark desert highway cool wind in my hair shirt, to my friend that if he is ever in a situation like that again getting drunk at a bar and enjoying themselves, that I really will not feel offended if they call and say they can’t make it. A few years back, I told him we were taking him and his wife out for dinner at a popular rural roadside bar and grill that I once moonlighted at and he had been eating at for years. The most expensive item on the menu, prime rib, is less than $18. I was well aware of the menu pricing, as I mentioned previously, I had worked there.
We were all entirely aware of the fact that meals and Dogs and Hippie bus on a dark desert highway cool wind in my hair shirt and one toddler would be in the neighborhood of $100 including tax and tip. We were grateful he had babysat our young son for a few days while my husband and I took a relaxing trip out of state, and wished to thank him and his wife. I’m sure my face changed color; I felt my blood drain as I realized he was insinuating we were too poor to take them for dinner. I shook my head with it’s gorgeous new highlights, turned on my $90 boots and walked away. We did not take them out for dinner.