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“There is no pillow so soft as a clear conscience.” —French proverb

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$2,009.59.

I stared in disbelief. I swallowed deep.

I had to word the amount to myself silently so that my brain could comprehend the bottom line on the receipt.

Two thousand nine dollars and fifty-nine cents.

It didn’t add up.

“Excuse me. I think you made a mistake.”

“Let me see.”

The sales associate reviewed the return receipt, looked at me, and smiled,

“No. It’s correct. That amount will be credited to your account.”

I looked at the receipt again, just to confirm what I knew already.

“Don’t I wish. But the refund amount is way too much. Look. Let me show you what happened.”

I circled $868.00 on the receipt.

“See. You refunded the full amount for 8 boxes of Detroit 4×12 tile. I only returned 1 box.”

Then I circled $823.77.

“And see right here. You refunded the full amount for 9 boxes of Classico Bardiglio Hexagon tiles. I only returned 2 boxes.”

I proceeded to circle and explain other areas involving incorrect refunds.

The associate followed along attentively.

“I can’t do anything about it. The refund is already in the system”

“But you have to fix the mistake. That’s not my money.”

After hearing once more that the refund had been processed already, I paused, took a deep breath, and laughed.

“I’ve never worked so hard at returning something that’s not mine. Can I talk to a manager?”

By the time the manager arrived, I was as amused as annoyed.

“So do you want your $2,009.59 back or what?”

I explained everything all over again.

“I don’t think I can fix it.”

“You mean you can’t override the transaction.”

“Nope. Maybe headquarters will know how.”

They did. Add the full purchases back to my account, minus the boxes of tiles I had returned. That would offset the incorrect refund.

It struck me as convoluted, but I had just lost two hours of my morning already.

A card swipe, a new refund receipt, and a handshake later, I was on my way home.

Less than a mile from the store, my phone rang. By the time I reached a nearby farmers market and listened to the voicemail, I knew my morning wasn’t over.

“Mr. Kendrick, in reviewing what we just did, I realize that I only fixed the problem for one of the tile returns. You need to come back to the store so I can do the other adjustment.”

I returned, weighing all the while the price of honesty.

The manager laughed, apologized, and proceeded to fix the second error on the return.

“I have to tell you that I just had a bathroom remodeled. This return was the worst part of it all.”

“I understand. I’ve added a $70 discount for your trouble. You deserve it.”

Ironically, I didn’t deserve it. Honesty is its own reward.