I finally won the biggest payout for Powerball. Eight dollars! I saw the first three numbers matching. Oh what a rush of adrenaline!

I went to cash it out the same place I bought it, at Vietnamese to-go deli near my mom’s house. For some reason, after running the slip through the machine, the attendant told me there was something wrong with the machine. She look quizzically at me. I was disappointed but I resolved to come back. The next day, I was back to get my winnings. Same thing. This clerk looked puzzled too but claimed that the machine was off. A little more frustration this time on my part. This 8 dollars seems especially hard to claim.

A few days later at a Vietnamese market, I attempted again to cash out my ticket. Waiting for the employee to check my numbers, I waited patiently. “Your ticket has already been cashed”. As I looked on dumbfounded, the clerk printed out a receipt like note that informed me that the winnings had already been distributed.

It’s 8 freaking dollars! I know it’s 8 dollars but I can’t turn the other cheek and not collect my 8 dollars.

So I went back to the original shop. The supervisor didn’t know what to do. After consulting with someone on the phone, she gave me the eight dollars. But first she advised me to notify their employees if it happened again. How would I know? I reiterated to her that I did nothing wrong. What could i have done differently except what I was doing now? I let it slip that my first instinct was that the shop swindled the money from me but I gave them the benefit of the doubt and wanted to inform them of the situation. I didn’t mention that I was prepared to notify them to the CA lottery board and seek my winnings. 8 dollars is not nothing. It’s a mocha with a cookie. It’s a carton of pastured eggs. It’s money that I earned. It’s a winning lotto ticket.

I was so invigorated at the end when I claimed my money. I hadn’t let myself be intimidated by the language barrier, by being perceived as being petty for collecting $8 dollars, by facing the possibility of a confrontation. It was $8 dollars but it was a good exercise for baby steps towards increased confidence, self assuredness. I had the presence of mind to end the conversation amicably, empathizing with them about working with difficult sometimes, unscrupulous customers, and finally wishing her in Vietnamese a day fully of happiness.

It was good that I didn’t burn my bridges to claim my modest 8 dollars. I don’t want to feel embarrassed to step into the store again. The food is quite good there and more importantly, I do think they work ethically and follow good sanitation protocols, which isn’t guaranteed at these humble little shops. But I didn’t realize how important our resolution was until I realized half an hour later that I had forgotten my phone on the counter of the shop. Had there been any unpleasantness, I doubt if I could have retrieved my phone or that there would have been a phone left to retrieve.

moral of the story: be kind but firm. Don’t get taken. Fight for your deserved rights.