A real con

Ok. After my last article my Dad, who I reads most of these, pointed out that putting on a con could have a very different connotation. After publishing it, it struck me a little odd too, but I thought it might just be the way my mind works. I'd like to believe that there is no way anyone could think I was tricking anyone, of course they would know it was about a convention, but that might not be fair. See, when I was younger, much younger, I did put on that other kind of con.

Fifth grade was a great year. I liked my teacher, I knew what I was going to do for the rest of my life, write stories, and most importantly I got to be a safety. To this day this is a treasured position, I know because nearly everyday I find myself asking Shelby why she running around the house in her neon green safety belt. You know, the kind with the shoulder strap which crosses in front of you, or hangs behind your butt if you wear it like she does.

On nearly day one it started. The clip board with the list would go around the room, passing from anxious hand to anxious hand. The kids in front of me had taken the street jobs and the classroom jobs and even the cafeteria jobs. For the first safety job, I took hall monitor. You know, make sure kids aren't hanging out in the hall when they are supposed to be on recess.

It was fun, I brought candy for the younger kids, never had any trouble, and no con either. The con wasn't until my second safety job. I sold cookies in the cafeteria.

On the first day, I learned where I would pick up the cash tray and cookies. I saw the desk I was to sit at and learned the cookies were sold for 25 cents apiece. My trainer and I sat at the desk selling cookies and it went without a hitch. The next day the trainer was gone, but again it went without any problems. Lots of kids bought cookies. Many seemed to not know how much they cost. In fact, the price for these cookies wasn't posted anywhere.

This caused my mind to start working. Overworking. If kids didn't know the price, I could charge anything. The school only expected a quarter a cookie, which means any money above that amount would come to me. Victimless, I thought at the time, perfect. I look back now, with the eye of a father who has kids in elementary school, kids that could be so taken advantage that I want to punch former me, but that is not who I was then.

Fifty cents I would say and they would smile and hand it over. Half would go in the till and half would go in my pocket. Fifty cents I would say and they would frown and say, oh I thought is was a quarter. I'll help you out I would say and sell them the "half price" cookie. On and on it went, I would buy a cookie with ill gotten money every day and walk home with jingling pockets.

Unbelievably, I was never caught or questioned about this. I didn't learn any lesson at the hands of the father of some kids I had taken advantage of, but I wouldn't say I got away with it either. See, everything I see one of my kids take advantage of their cousin, or their cousin take advantage of them, I get mad not just at them, but at myself. They are acting just the way I did and because I never was caught then, I too deserve some trouble.