Rarely is the act of a stupid person so traceable.
From the dents they put in your fender to the trash they toss on your lawn, you never know which of the stupid people did it.
They’re tricky that way.
If nothing else, generations of stupidosity have refined the stupid gene to at least cover its own tracks.
Not so with John C.
John C. (whose last name I’ve abbreviated to keep him from suing Stephan P.) has his moronity on full display at my grocery store.
That is because John C. did not use the plastic stylus to sign the electronic signature pad.
He used a Sharpie.
So every time I or anyone else uses a credit card at my grocery store, we must sign our name over his.
Sometimes I even follow the lines of his Sharpie and sign his name to my receipt.
It must be a great convenience for him each time he uses his credit card at my grocery store and sees that there is no need for him to sign again.
For like the hieroglyphics of the Egyptians and the cave paintings of the Anasazi, John C. has left his mark.
Sure, it might not inspire awe, but it makes you sad. And eliciting emotion is a hallmark of good writing.
Best of all, in this internet age of anonymity, John C. has chosen to stand up like an alcoholic at an AA meeting and shout to everyone at my grocery store: “My name is John C., and I do stupid things.”
That, my friends, is accountability.