Honesty is the best policy...

So, back in June, I decided it was time to get me a new wedding ring.

Before you go all wacko on me, you have to understand that a billion (BILYUNS...of Staaarss...sorry, I couldn't stop my inner Carl Sagen) years ago when Jeremy and I got engaged, I picked out my ring. Jeremy wanted to spend a small fortune on a diamond ring, and I dug my heels in and refused, since we were destitute college students, and I couldn't bear the thought of that money being strapped to my hand when it could be used to buy food and pay for books.

Anyway, I picked out the ring I loved, and happily pranced from the jewelry store.

Jeremy quickly discovered that the ring was pokey, and thus started the hate-hate relationship he has with my wedding ring.

And, I suppose I can understand his sentiments, since I believe it has drawn blood at least once.

Anywho, so 11 years later, I decided it was time to get a new ring, and this time, I would get a band. But not just any band....

THIS:

It's an Israeli meditation ring.

I like it.

A lot.

Anyway, so I ordered it and waited with baited breath for it to arrive.

It took a long time for it to come, so when I did I was giddily prancing to the mail box.

I pulled it out of it's box and lo! it didn't fit.

It was too big.

Like, I'd have to gain 50 lbs to make it fit.

And while I liked the ring, I didn't think that gaining that much weight would be a good idea.

So, I sent an email to the artisan, and she told me it was no problem, and that if I would just send it back, she would resize it and send it back to me.

I wrapped up the ring, sealed it in its package, and toddled off to the post office.

Now, this ring cost me $$$.

But the shop owner told me to write USD Value $40 on the outside of the envelope, and post it registered mail.

I felt a little weird about it, but I did what she asked, and when I went to the post office, they asked me if what was inside was how much the item was worth.

I fidgeted, and replied, "Well, that's what she told me to put on the envelope..."

The postal worker shrugged, and slapped an shipping sticker on the envelope and bid me a good day.

I walked out to my car, and started driving down the street.

"Nobody will knoooww...." the devil said. "They would have probably charged you more money if you told them how much you paaaaiiidddd..."

I sneered discontentedly, and turned the car around.

I stood in line again at the post office, and waited my turn.

When I was up, I pulled out my receipt and said, "Hi! I need to change something on my package."

The worker looked at me with glazed eyes as I continued to prattle on.

"You see, I paid a LOT more for what is in that package, and I don't want to burn in hell for something so dumb."

"How much did you pay?" the worker droned.

"$$$."

The postal worker's eyes widened a little and he said, "That will probably increase what you have to pay..."

I indicated that I didn't care, and so he tallied up what I would owe...

...and there was no difference.

Awesome.

So, the insurance was adjusted, and I prinkle-pranced out of the post office, feeling like I had won the moral war.

I didn't know at the time HOW MUCH I had won.

I tracked my package across the United States, and anxiously waited for the package to make its way across the ocean.

It never did.

It decided to stay in New York.

For a month.

Normally, registered mail takes a week to nine days to make it to its international destination.

So, I knew something was up.

I called USPS, and waited an eternity to talk to someone (but I can now tell you verbatim the entire recorded message about priority mail versus registered mail...).

The USPS phone lady sounded like she was having the best day EVER, and got rather snarky with me, though I was trying to be small and harmless. She managed to get all my information, and then looked up my package.

There was a sound of surprise on her end.

So, I thought to myself, I'm NOT just paranoid.

And thus I opened an inquiry, and thus I started the process of getting my money back. ALL my money...not just the $40 that would have been paid out had I not gone back (at least...I hope I get my money back...I'm not exactly sure how USPS insurance works...).

So, if you ever feel inclined to be naughtily dishonest, remember my tale. It pays to be honest.