I was in the grocery store last week and passed the glass case housing a pile of frozen turkeys. Now I probably could have waited on buying one, but I always get a turkey that’s in the 20- to 22-pound range, and a 21 1/2-pounder was right there in the front. I hesitated for a moment, but then recalled the Thanksgiving where I waited too long and couldn’t find a turkey large enough, so I thought I’d better buy one now.

I pulled the frozen bird out of the case, hoisted it into the cart and carried on with my shopping. At the check-out, an older gentleman – let’s say 80-something – got in line behind me with his loaf of bread and canned good. We smiled at each other in cordial acknowledgment, then he proclaimed, “Turkey time!” I nodded in agreement and kept loading stuff onto the conveyor belt. He then moved closer to my cart, looked at the price of my turkey, gasped, and loudly announced it was cheaper at the other grocery store.

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