A semi-regular customer rents a stack of movies once upon a time. They don't come back for a few days, so late fees accrue. They eventually make their way home.
Problem is that two of the cases are shattered. The jewel cases are one thing, because those worthless sleeves break in hapless shame when Fernando gives them a disapproving grimace. But these are Fernando's outer cases, thick husks of plastic that have a not insignificant probability of out-surviving cockroaches come a nuclear holocaust. These things do not break through accident.
Now Fernando has two of them that look roughly like someone's windshield after a particularly vile hailstorm. Since the movies were already late, Fernando just tacked on an additional charge for the ruined property. As stated earlier, jewel cases being destroyed happens all the time, and they're easily replaced, but Fernando has searched high and low for more of these immortal outer cases and they just don't exist, probably because they stand in violation of some law regulating the potential weaponization of materials.
The irony is that Fernando's transparent orange slim cases, which have potential mortality, remained unscathed.
About a month later the gentleman returns and selects another bunch of movies for his enjoyment. He brings them to the counter and Fernando says to him, “How much did you want to throw onto your late fee?”
“Uh, how much is it?”
“You had out four movies for three days, which makes for twenty-six, and then I charged you a buck apiece for the ruined cases.”
“Yeah, two of my irreplaceable cases looked like somebody went at them with a sledge hammer.”
The guy's eyes widen, then narrow. His lips press together. “That wasn't me.”
“I didn't say it was.”
“I'll pay the late charges on the movies, since it was my fault they didn't get back, but I'm not paying for the cases. I didn't do that.”
“I mean, then who did?”
“I let my friend borrow them. That's why they were late.”
Fernando runs both hands through his hair. “So you're paying the late fee off today, then?”
“Okay, then it'll be twenty-six dollars for the late fee, plus the rentals makes thirty-six fifty total.” The man paid his bill in its entirety and the movies were returned the next day.
Fernando has enough wisdom to comprehend that giving up two dollars to put twenty-six in his till and retaining a not-pissed-off customer is a better alternative than insisting upon twenty-eight dollars and receiving instead an angry man who will owe that money for all eternity.