Split second decisions

"Excuse me: I think you've made a mistake. You've undercharged us."

I could feel the incredulous stares from my five fellow diners as I handed the waiter the bill. "There are six of us; not five," I added, ostensibly clarifying my statement but secretly fanning the flames.

"What did you do that for?!" one hissed across at me once the slightly bewildered waiter had disappeared. Some followed his eyes for the answer whilst maintaining a light-hearted smile; others politely looked away and started chatting amongst themselves, electing not to question the organiser's (my) approach. After all, the net effect was merely an extra $5 per person.

But it's a good question: why did I do it? 

• Firstly, I did it because it was wrong: there was an incorrect piece of information floating around, and I saw a way to fix it. It's the same urge that makes me want to correct errant apostrophes on signs, or mis-spellings in menus. I relayed to a friend a great dream I had about her last week, and her reply was, "What a lovely thing to have out there in the universe." Call me an existentialist, but I think this world can only be better the more positives and truths we have floating around in it.

• Secondly, I did it because I felt we'd been treated well by the guys running the restaurant (I'd kept changing the booking), and wanted to treat them well in return. Which to me meant not taking advantage of them when they made a mistake.

• Finally (and the reason I gave at the time), I did it because I like the restaurant and want to support a local, privately run business. I want the owners to succeed, so am happy to pay them the prices they request in return. Look around our high streets: we've forced out any number of places by demanding cheaper prices from the internet or the big-buying supermarkets, yet we complain when these once cheerful thoroughfares now make our towns look bleak and run-down, or when we find we can't touch, try or experience something personally and immediately (consoling ourselves with promises of a speedy delivery and a highly rated returns policy). I'm as guilty as any, I might add.

So to get back to my tale: the revised bill arrived, everyone good-naturedly coughed up the correct amount and no more was said about it. But there's one small point I've neglected to mention which is the real reason behind this post.

I hesitated. Before I corrected the waiter, I hesitated. Even as the three reasons above tumbled around in my head, competing for attention, I thought about saying nothing. And while yes, I (IMNSHO) came good this time, when else has my conscience tried knocking, only to be turned away?

Before you fear a cathartic diatribe of past mistakes, it's just a rhetorical question, dear reader. I have no desire to dredge up age-old negative memories: they serve no purity of purpose as, no matter how much we tell ourselves it'll help us become better people, they either lead us to a place of despair and misery or inspire a defiant self-defence as we assure ourselves we really had no way of knowing any better at the time. 

No: instead, my conclusion is that I shall start paying more attention to those moments of hesitation from now on. I'm not about to foolishly make great claims about how I shall shape my judgments in future; rather I think the answer rests simply in my trying to prolong these split seconds when I'm debating two courses of action.

So if you see me looking pensive, or taking slightly more time to speak, let me assure you that it's not old age, dear reader. I'm merely letting the waters settle in my mind, watching and waiting for the "truth" to surface. But be warned: it might cost you $5.