One of Fernando's regular customers comes in to pick up a couple of gift certificates for a child's birthday party to which her own children were invited. After she writes out the check and the transaction goes through, she is sealing the envelopes Fernando provided and asks, “Wait. Is this my pen or yours?”
“It's definitely yours. My pens aren't nearly that nice.” And, indeed, this is a sleek, impressive ballpoint pen that is operated not via click, but with way past cool twisting of the pen's shaft.
“Neither are mine. I think I borrowed this one from my life insurance office.”
“Life insurance is the most important kind of insurance,” Fernando says in a way that, he hopes, resembles a koan. “Aside from vehicle and property and terrorism--”
“Wait, terrorism insurance?” the woman interrupts.
“Oh, yeah. Terrorism insurance.”
“You're joking.”
“I wish I were. I pay like eight bucks a year to have terrorism insurance coverage on my building here. It's bundled in with everything else but when I get my yearly invoice-description-thing there it is, itemized.”
“Why?” she asks.
“Oh, obviously because I run the daily risk of a terrorist obliterating my property. Actually, it's like a federal thing that I have to have it.”
And she busts out laughing at that. “That is just about the best thing ever. Terrorism insurance! I'm going to have to tell everyone that that exists! They won't believe it! You just made my day.”
“Oh, it's real. It's all too real.”
She laughs again and says, “See you later, Fern! Thanks for the gift certificates!”
Fernando strives to make the world a better place in his own way whenever he can.
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