So last week, I bought myself a brand new camping chair so that me and my derriere could be comfortable while lounging around a (rainy) field while at a festival. For my new camping kit, I paid fifty-five of my finest British pounds, which I dutifully paid to the real-world lady at a real-world cash register and left for the drive home and subsequent music in a field experience. Except, alas, not all was as I could have hoped.
The chair was, in fact, £45 in a different camping store — and had I spoken to the lady at the register about the price discrepancy, I would have gotten the chair for the same price in my transaction. Gosh, I thought. If only I had:
