Frick Is Right

Walter Frick gets in his old Dodge beater and heads north on Sunset Blvd to the corner store.

In his head, Walter goes over his grocery list: eggs, milk, bacon, cheese, onions, tomatoes, ground turkey...

Smooth jazz plays on the radio. Walter's been a fan of smooth jazz for weeks now. Before that he used to love rock and roll. ACDC, Led Zeppelin, Ozzy. Anything that made the head bang, the soul fill with electricity.

But things were different now.

A few years ago, Walter was a different man. He spent his money on women and drugs. He was a big-time drinker and party animal. He maxed out every credit card he owned, and things really went downhill when he got that DUI.

His expensive cars, his fancy apartment, his rooms filled with STUFF. All gone.

But then he met his wife and things started to look up for Walter. After they married, Walter was on a path toward improvement.

He started going to the gym more. He started spending more time grooming himself. He cut back on his drinking and partying and instead goes to hot yoga every Sunday and volunteers his free time at the Boys and Girls Club.

Quite a change from who he used to be. And for the better.

Walter pulls into the corner store parking lot, parks his car, goes over his list again: eggs, milk, bacon, cheese, ground turkey... oh yes, please. He pulls out his wallet, counts his money. $60.

Walter's been good about sticking to his budget. With his irregular monthly income, he knows he has to be strict with his money; otherwise, he could end up begging on the streets.

Every month, he pulls out money and puts it into envelopes and only spends what's inside the envelope. He has an envelope for food. Another one for rent. He has an envelope for bills and the car and fun.

Walter knows that if he wants to keep the life he has, he has to stick to the envelopes. And when he goes to the corner store, he has to stick to his list.

The two biggest mistakes people make when they go to the store are a) going in hungry, and b) not making and sticking to a list. Walter wasn't going to be like those other suckers.

He gets out, grabs his recyclable bags, and walks in the store.

Inside, Walter sticks to the perimeter because that's where you find the essentials. The inside aisles are what stores use to keep you trapped. Keep you circulating the aisles. Keep you looking at all their stuff and putting things in your cart that you don't need.

But Walter's better than that. He sticks to the outside and collects the things on his list.

A few dozen eggs. A bundle of leafy greens. Bags of brown rice and quinoa. A couple of unripened avocados.

One by one he checks off each item he has on the list. Then he moves to the checkout stand.

As he's walking, his phone rings. It's his wife.

"Hello?" Walter says.

"Hey, babe, I wanted to call you and tell you about this really amazing dream I had last night," she says. "First we went dancing at that private night club in West Hollywood. You were buying us shots and then we got bottle service. It was a big deal. Then after, you and I went to this fancy sweet shop downtown. The name was something French. It cost thirty dollars for 5 desserts. Thirty dollars! But they were the most delicious pastries I've ever had in my entire life. I couldn't tell you why they were so expensive, but they were really, really good."

"For six dollars a pastry, they must've been good."

"Yeah, they really were. And you want to know what happened next?"

"What happened?"

"After we left the sweet shop, we drove back home and fucked in the shower."

"Oh, wow."

"Where are you?" she asks.

"I'm at the corner store picking up the things on our list."

"While you're there, can you pick up some beer, too, please? For you. And uh, a little bit of wine for me. And maybe later tonight we can...you know... check out the shower together."

"Sounds good to me. I'll see you later"

Walter hangs up, turns his cart around. He walks through the aisles looking for the beer and wine. He finds them in the refrigerated section.

The shelves are full of wine bottles of various prices. The cheapest one was $3. But there was no way he could show up with a cheap bottle, especially with a woman like his. The most expensive bottle was $80. That was way above his budget. So he settles for something in between.

He grabs a $40 bottle of wine, $8 worth of beer for himself. He puts them in the cart and heads back to the checkout line.

As he heads to the stands, he adds up the items in his head. He knew that he didn't have enough money. But he had to see if his luck would work out.

Walter was a decently attractive man. In his prime, he was known to knock the ladies dead every once in a while. Especially when he was a young man. Maybe, he thought, I can charm the cashier into giving me the bottle for free.

He gets to the checkout lines and does a quick scan: two men, one woman in her 60s and another about 19. He walks toward the 19-year-old.

First impressions are everything. You gotta make sure you really nail this one, big guy.

"Hello," Walter says. "How are you today, miss?"

The girl behind the register says nothing, nods slightly, gives him a half-smile. Then she scans his items.

"Beautiful day out today. And perfect weather for a run. Are you runner, by any chance?

"No," she says.

"I love running. There's nothing better than getting out there and filling your lungs up with that sweet crisp air. And I don't hate the results." Walter lifts his shirt to reveal two hard-to-notice abs.

The girl gave him back nothing. She continued to scan the items.

Walter watches the tender get bigger: 10.98, 22.45, 45.80...

The girl finishes. "Okay, sir, your total is $76.90."

"That's too bad," he tells the cashier. "See, I've only got $60. Is there any way you might be able to help me out?"

"How am I supposed to do that?" the girl asks.

"Maybe some of these items are on sale. Is there any way you could check?"

"Sorry, sir, I can't do that here."

"Hmm, well, is there any way I can take the stuff today and pay you back later somehow?"

"No, sir, I can't do that either."

"You gotta work with me here, miss. You look young and bright. I'm sure you can figure out how to help me out of this predicament."

"Well, you can start by leaving some things behind," she says, eyeing the bottle of wine.

"Hmm, okay. Then go ahead and take out the bacon and the turkey. Where am I now?"

"70 and change."

"All right, then take out the milk, the greens, and the quinoa. What about now?"

"62."

"Shit. And a dozen eggs?"

"59.57."

"Sold!"

Walter pays and walks to his car. He starts his car and heads back home. On the passenger seat were half the items on his list, a six-pack of beer and a bottle of wine.

Oh, well, he thought. It was a pretty good month. If I can just get twice as many clients every month I can be a very rich man. And that's not something a lot of writers can say.

He parks his car across the street, gets out, and walks up the path to his apartment. As he walks through the door, he says out loud, "I probably would have had a better shot with the 60-year-old."