My father vs. the stapler

"I broke my stapler," my father said the other day.

"That's too bad," I said.

"So I was taking it to get it repaired ..." 

"Why wouldn't you just buy a new one?" I said. "Staplers cost, like, five bucks."

"Oh, they do?" my father said.

"Give or take," I said. 

 "I didn't know that," he said. "But anyway ..." 

"So you took it to get it repaired," I said. "Where did you go?"

"Staples," he said. 

"Of course," I said. "How did it go?"

"I showed it to the young man at the counter. He took a look at it, and he tried this and that and the other thing. Lo and behold, in about 15 minutes he got it working. So I asked him how much, and he said no charge."

"That was nice of him," I said. 

"Well, I wanted to tip him. I took $10 out of my wallet, but he said, 'Sir, I can't accept that.' I said, 'Why not?' He said, 'We aren't allowed.' I said, 'Call your manager over here.'

"So the manager came over," he went on, "and I said to her, 'Ma'am, this young man has just won a bet with me. I bet him $10, and I believe when you lose a bet you should honor it. Is that OK with you?' The young man didn't know what to think."

"I bet he didn't."

"She said, 'I don't see any problem with him taking that $10.' So he did, and I got the stapler in a bag and drove home."

"Well, that's a story," I said. 

"And then I dropped the fucking thing getting out of the car," he said. 

"You're kidding me," I said.

"Busted it worse than before. I've just spent two hours trying to fix it."

"Two hours?!" 

"Two solid hours and no luck at all. I just threw it in the trash can. Tomorrow I'm going to Staples to buy a new one." 

"Jeez, Dad," I said.