…. continued from last week.  (CLICK HERE to read Part One.)

 

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“Stupid, STUPID Marilyn.”

“Oh my God – how could you have made such a dumb mistake?”

“What an IDIOT you are!”

She would NOT shut up. My Inner Critic was having a field day with this one.

FAIR WARNING: This post will be much more interesting if you read last week’s installment.  Just a suggestion . . .

My husband, Scott, tried to console me. “It’s only money.” And, “Thank God you can afford to make a mistake like this.” And, “I was there too, and I didn’t think twice about your offer. So I’m at fault, too.”

It wasn’t helping.

I thought about my employees. What would I do if one of them made such a mistake? How am I ever going to explain this on an expense report?

By this time, the high-speed Italo train we were on was hurtling south toward Naples at 257 km/hour, as indicated on the electronic sign at the front of the car. Despite having thrown a coin in Trevi Fountain, I would not be going back to Rome. At least not this trip.

I thought about the vendor. He probably closed up shop right after I left in case I figured out my mistake and came back demanding a refund. And he’s probably celebrating his windfall right now. Remembering his accent, vodka would certainly be his drink of choice. And to think I had asked him, “How’s business?” as I waited for his assistant to collect the goods from his warehouse.

“OH MY GOD! That was nearly a THOUSAND DOLLARS, Marilyn! A THOUSAND DOLLARS for 10 bobble-head Pope dolls!” Inner Critic continued her rant in my head. God, she could be vicious.

I thought ahead: How soon would I be returning to Rome? How will I confront the guy for taking advantage of my stupidity? Would he play dumb or would he be honest and refund my money? Seeing that he overlooks the Vatican, would the benevolence of Pope Francis have rubbed off on him? Would he feel the slightest bit guilty about his complicity in the mistake?

The Kinder, Gentler Marilyn (K.G.M.) mused in a more loving way. “Your WOWees will get such a kick when they get this gift. They are really cute.”

“This will make a great story some day. You’ll laugh about it.”

“This mistake didn’t bankrupt you. It’s only money.”

“Keep breathing.”

I took a giant inhalation and closed my eyes. I leaned back in the seat. I relaxed my tenser-than-normal shoulders. I slowly exhaled and remembered the philosophy that I ascribe to: It’s not what happens to you, but what you decide about what happens to you that makes all the difference. I felt better.

I took a few more breaths and put away the memo pad onto which I had just scrawled “600 Euros – bobble-head Pope dolls.”

Searching for distraction, I looked out the window. The tracks ran parallel to a major highway and we were traveling considerably faster than the traffic. I love trains. Wish we had trains or any kind of reasonable transit system in California. They are talking about building a bullet train to connect LA and San Francisco. But will it be operable in my lifetime? Probably not.

And then She came roaring back. Damn Inner Critic (D.I.C.). I couldn’t shut Her out for long. She started up again: “SIX HUNDRED EURO! That’s a thousand dollars. How could you NOT realize how much money you were giving that guy? Why did you not think twice when he so quickly accepted your offer without countering back and forth? And when he took the money without counting it . . . how obvious was that? Geez, Marilyn, what a stupid, stupid mistake!”

Oy.

They came down the aisle with a food cart. Cute little bottles of Pellegrino. Free. I looked over the menu. They change it every two weeks to use only fresh seasonal ingredients. Cuttlefish with Green Peas? On a train? Can you imagine what an American would think of such a menu item back home … even in a regular restaurant! Leave it to the Italians to serve cuttlefish on a train! I bet it’s delicious!

My monkey-mind continued: Why can’t we have such great food in the U.S.? Nothing tastes as good as it does here. I’m kind of hungry. Maybe I should try it . . . hmmmm, 19 Euros would be about $25 or so . . .

Whoops. The topic of currency conversion gave D.I.C. another opening to berate me: “So, you can convert 19 euros but you sure screwed up BIG TIME back there with that vendor. I wonder what he’s having for lunch today? Probably champagne and caviar, you dummy!”

K.G.M. came to my defense. “Here you are, on a comfortable train where they’re serving cuttlefish for lunch. Everything’s going to be okay. You do such a good job. You’re so creative and generous. Surely, that man will pay it forward and be especially generous to someone in the coming days.”

Yeah! You tell her!

I remembered once again: It’s the story I tell myself that creates my reality.

Hey, I can change the story!!

My mood instantly brightened. Truth be told, I wasn’t swindled at all. I had generously contributed to someone who would use the money in a positive, productive way. My donation would ultimately help the world.

I’d never made such a monumental mistake before. But nothing happens by accident, so there must be a greater purpose at play here.

And my storyline spun a little deeper. 

The vendor has been stressing about how can he possibly afford to send his daughter to college. My windfall just made that possible!

Tension loosened its death grip from my shoulders. I continued to embellish my story:

What a great thing I’ve done! His daughter is brilliant. She’ll go on to grad school at Harvard and work for a well-respected NGO. She’ll be committed to the cause of women’s empowerment in the developing world. One day in the future, she’ll be nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize.

And, of course, she’ll win!

[hr]

… Was what I was telling myself really true?  Well, it’s as true as telling myself I’m stupid. My mind doesn’t know the difference.

I love happy endings – why not create a story with a happy ending?

And so, dear Reader, THAT is the rest of the story. And I’m stickin’ to it!