During my stint in grad school, there was a period of several months when Baseball Cap Guy borrowed stamps. Now, I’m not saying that he needed a stamp every now and then, I’m saying that he used me and The Doktah as his own personal post office. Every time he needed to mail something he was “out of stamps” and asked one of us if he could buy one off us.
So you see, it wasn’t that Baseball Cap Guy was too cheap to buy stamps. It was that he was too lazy. But The Doktah and I were becoming increasingly annoyed by the incessant stamp borrowing, and it wasn’t the loss of 37 cents that was bothering us. We didn’t like schlepping down to the post office any more than Baseball Cap Guy did.
The last straw came when I came back from lunch to find Baseball Cap Guy rooting through my desk drawer. “What are you doing?” I gasped.
“I was out of stamps and I thought you kept them in there,” he said sheepishly.
I rolled my eyes and sighed. “You know what, Baseball Cap Guy?” I said. “They’ll sell stamps to anyone! You don't even need a license!”
From that day forward, Baseball Cap Guy bought his own stamps, and The Doktah and I teased him mercilessly and endlessly about it.
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