I've got my package and I'm leaving and all I want to do is get back to work and I'm set upon, like a ham at the dog pound. Right outside the door, is a gaggle -- their organizational unit is a gaggle, y'know -- of Girl Scouts, and they've set up a table piled high with cookies, and are assaulting everyone who comes within the radius of a shriek.

"Hey, mister," one says to me, "wanna buy some cookies?"

"OK," I say. "I'll take a box of Thin Mints."

"Three dollars, please!"

I pull out my wallet and hand the adorable paramilitary moppet a ten.

"Let's see," she says, fumbling through a wad of bills that could pay a month of my mortgage. "Your change is two dollars."

"No...," gently scolds the adult behind her, there to prevent the Scouts from just beating us up and taking our money. "Why don't you try again?"

"Oh, duh!" says the girl. "It's five dollars!"

"No...," says the woman again. "Ten minus three is...?"

I lean over and say, "Twelve dollars."

"Twelve dollars!" she says, and starts counting out the cash.

"No!" says the woman. "Seven! It's seven! Just give him seven!"