Allowing Others a Mistake

A certain supermarket in my hometown of Kiserian has a bakery which bakes tasty bread that I love eating for breakfast. Since I am the only one at home who feasts on that tasty bread, it usually lasts for five or six days when I buy it at the supermarket. And boy, don't I always look forward to downing that tasty bread with tea or porridge!

Last Monday when my reserve of that favorite bread of mine got finished, I decided to buy another one in the evening during my daily walk to Kiserian. I left home that Monday evening feeling as happy as a lark, confident that I would find the bread on sale at the supermarket.

Sure enough, I did find plenty of the tasty bread on sale when I entered the supermarket. As usual, I picked the one that costs Ksh. 70. And I ensured it was brown, not white, because I am keen these days to eat healthier food that will leave me bursting with health.

On picking the bread, I went to one of the supermarket cashiers to pay for it. Thankfully, there was no queue of customers on the cashier's desk as is often the case. After the cashier scanned the bread on her computerized machine, I gave her a Ksh. 200 note, expecting her to deduct Ksh. 70 for the bread. But alas! She gave me back Ksh. 110 which, in my quick thinking, made me realize she had deducted Ksh. 90.

Surprised, I inquired why she had sold the bread to me at Ksh. 90 instead of Ksh. 70 as indicated on the bread. A young lady assisting the cashier quickly intervened. Agreeing with me that the bread costs Ksh. 70, the young lady went to the supermarket bread shelf to investigate the matter. I followed her.

After confirming that the bread did indeed cost Ksh. 70, the young lady informed me that since my receipt had already been processed, there was no way I could get my Ksh. 20 back. But I protested, rather humbly, that I was being forced to pay for a mistake that was the supermarket's, not mine.

Insisting that I couldn't get back my Ksh. 20, the young lady requested me to pick a Ksh. 90 brown bread. I agreed to her request but sadly, we didn't find such bread on the shelf.

Unable to handle the matter, the young lady called two male workers of the supermarket to help her sort out the issue. They, too, confirmed that the bread was retailing at Ksh. 70 and then they made the startling realization that the bread had been packed in a nylon bag for Ksh. 90 bread. That's why the computerized laser scanner had made the cashier charge me Ksh. 90.

As the workers contemplated on what to do with the mix-up, I silently prayed that they would give me my Ksh. 20. But guess what! They summoned one of the bakers to the cashier's desk. The baker came strutting with floury hands that clearly showed he had been in the thick of baking something in the bakery. On piecing the situation together, the baker told the cashier that she should have checked the price label of the bread instead of scanning the product code.

When the baker was asked whether Ksh. 90 brown bread was available in the supermarket, he said "yes" and went for it. He came back with the bread and gave it to me. As I accepted the bread from the baker, the other supermarket workers apologized to me profusely for the mix-up.

I exited the supermarket feeling let down because the mix-up had wasted about fifteen minutes of my time. (And fifteen minutes is a lot of time to me since I can read a whole story in a Reader's Digest magazine in those minutes.) I had also been forced to buy a big Ksh. 90 bread which I wasn't quite sure if it wouldn't go bad before I finished eating it. Mind you, I don't overeat anything these days for fear of growing plump.

But I didn't want to allow the mix-up to sour my Monday evening. So I tried to look at the sunny side of the situation. And in my effort to think positively, I found myself appreciating the kindness of the supermarket's staff who had handled the matter.

Then, I came to understand the mix-up was part of the mistakes we humans make because nobody is perfect. The supermarket baker had packed the Ksh. 70 bread in a nylon bag for Ksh. 90 thinking the cashier would check the price label on the bread, only for her to scan the product code. That seemed to me like one of those reasonable mistakes that we all make.

Yes, we all make mistakes. Personally, I have committed more mistakes than I care to remember. I have forgotten some things, misplaced others and made typos in the stories I post on this blog. And I will never forget the time in 2012 when I composed an SMS for Dad and then sent it to Mum.

It's in the light of that knowledge that we all make mistakes that made me understand and forgive the supermarket staff for the mix-up that inconvenienced me last Monday evening. Five minutes or so after exiting the supermarket, I bounced back into high spirits and walked home feeling as happy as I had been earlier that evening.

My beloved reader, I exhort you to also allow others a mistake. Don't fly off the handle when others err, such as when someone misunderstands your instructions or when a child accidentally drops a plate of food on the floor. Again I say, we all make mistakes. Therefore, be forgiving and accepting of others when they blunder. That's all I am saying.

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RECOMMENDATION: If you've enjoyed this story on allowing others a mistakes, you might also enjoy another one I wrote about three years on "Mistakes That Made Me Grow". Just click on that link in blue to dive straight into the story.