Karma Cleanser - November 14 2001

Karma Cleanser:
A few years back, I was shopping at a major department store in a mall, when I made my way, unintentionally hidden, near where two clerks were talking. These girls appeared to be in their early 20s, like college students working a part-time job. One clerk says, “You won’t believe my luck today. At lunch I found a $100 bill in men’s suit jackets and the manager says if no one claims it as lost by closing, I get to keep it!”

You know what happened next. I quietly slipped away, dashed for the parking lot, and sped like a demon all the way home. I quickly rehearsed my script, then I made the call. Half-frantic, half-pitiful, “May I speak to the manager ... you haven’t by chance had anyone turn in a $100 bill today, have you?”

So he starts with the, “Matter of fact, one of our cashiers did find a $100 bill, I’ll transfer you now.” She tried like the dickens to test me, just to be sure. Of course, I aced all the questions. The next day I got to the customer service desk and made my claim: one crisp, fresh C-note! Any guilt or remorse? Oh sure, plenty. I used the money to help meet some financial shortcomings, but I would have gotten by without it, a lot easier than a struggling college kid would have.

Now where does the karma come in? That month, I went on a check-bouncing spree. It was a domino effect, one perpetuated another before I could stop it. The final tally: $300 in bank NSF service charges. I believe it was John Lennon who said, “Instant karma’s gonna get you.”

-- Dirty cash

Your story again proves the Karma Cleanser’s latest theory of commerce and retribution: Good things never come from department stores.

Karma Cleanser:
Simple question for you: Is it adequate grounds for divorce to have walked in on your husband masturbating to your Buns of Steel workout video?

I knew I should have dumped this creep when he felt up my sister at our wedding.

-- Exercise my demon

Though we wouldn’t dare question the sweaty, sultry appeal of those Steel videos, it’s obvious that the Bunmaster has some sexual compulsion issues. Hide the remote, hash it out and if it can’t be resolved, leave his ass.

Send confessions and questions about how to avoid karmic retribution to karma@creativeloafing.com, or to Karma Cleanser, Creative Loafing, 750 Willoughby Way, Atlanta, Ga. 30312. All entries are anonymous, of course.