I’m not sure if it is a local franchise owner thing or corporate wide, but the two Dunkin Donuts in town have a Wall Street Journal delivered to the store for the customers to read. Donna and I take advantage of this and enjoy reading it on the mornings we eat in the store. On the week days we are usually the ones to unwrap it as we are there by 6:15, but on Saturdays we are often much later and sometimes it has been read, is being read or completely gone.
After several Saturdays in a row of it not being there we asked what happened to the WSJ and one of the employees said somebody comes in and takes it. No further explanation was forthcoming, so we speculated; it was the franchise owner and it was really “his” paper or they were just afraid to say something or they just didn’t care. After a couple more Saturdays of it being there, the next visit there was somebody already there reading it. The nerve of him. Not only that, this fellow was sitting in our usual spot.
We sat down at a table on the other side of the store and made light conversation all the while thinking evil thoughts about the interloper. Part way through our breakfast that fellow got up, tucked the WSJ under his arm and walked out the door like it was the most natural thing. We mentioned it to an employee and she said, “Oh, he pays us for it. After all most mornings it never even gets taken out of the wrapper.” This didn’t sound right to us, but we figured if we wanted to read the Saturday Wall Street Journal we would just have to get to the store earlier.
A couple of Saturdays ago when I made a DD run and had to go back inside to get my coffee, I noticed the Saturday Journal sitting there at the condiment station right by the door. On my way back out I should have picked it up and taken it with me, no one would have been the wiser, but my warped sense of right and wrong wouldn’t let me.