I grow rice, and I also sell it.
To be honest, I am still not a very good businessman. I have a bad habit of leaving cash on the seat or dashboard of my small farm truck. Yesterday, that habit got me into trouble again.
My last customer of the day, Mr. C, paid me ¥12,000 for rice. I clearly remember putting the money into my shirt pocket.
When I got home, I checked the cash I thought I had left in the truck. But all I found were three ¥1,000 bills.
"Wait a minute. Where is the ¥10,000 bill?"
At that point, I should have stopped and thought carefully.
Instead, I quickly decided that Mr. C must have made a mistake.
To make things worse, I even sent him an email saying something like:
"Your fingerprints should still be on the bills."
I sounded like a detective trying to solve a crime.
Then, right after sending the email, I touched my shirt pocket.
My heart almost stopped.
The ¥12,000 was there.
All of it.
Then whose ¥3,000 was sitting in the truck?
I searched my memory as fast as I could. Finally, I remembered.
The money belonged to Mr. A, who had stopped by earlier that morning to pay for rice milling.
I had completely forgotten about him and somehow mixed him up with my last customer, Mr. C.
In other words, there was never any mystery.
There was never any crime.
The only person who got confused was me.
I felt very embarrassed. Not only had I doubted an honest customer, but I had even brought up fingerprints like some amateur detective.
Mr. C, I am truly sorry.
The good news is that he has already placed an order for next year. Still, I hope he ordered my rice because he likes the rice, not because he was impressed by my detective skills.