WHEN MY CUSTOMER PAID WITH 2 FISH AND A BLESSING
WHEN MY CUSTOMER PAID WITH 2 FISH AND A BLESSING
There are moments in life that make you question reality. Moments that make you laugh until your stomach hurts, while your brain screams, “Is this even real life?” And then there are moments so wildly absurd, so deliciously ridiculous, that they belong in a hall of fame reserved for stories people tell their grandchildren to make them grateful for the value of money.
One such moment happened when a customer paid for goods with two fish and a blessing. Yes. You read that correctly.
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. It started as an ordinary day. The sun shone with an innocent brightness, birds chirped in a melody that could double as a corporate jingle, and I was minding my business, thinking about how to make my small business slightly profitable in a world dominated by online marketplaces, digital wallets, and cryptocurrency speculation. Little did I know, fate had prepared an encounter that would redefine the word “transaction” in ways that could challenge even the most seasoned economists.
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The customer appeared out of nowhere—or at least it felt like nowhere. Dressed in attire that screamed, “I may own a fleet of invisible yachts or just got lost on my way to a blockchain seminar,” he walked up to the counter with the calmness of a man who had just invented a new currency, potentially more disruptive than fintech startups or investment banking schemes.
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He held out a small, damp plastic bag. Inside were two very slippery, very confused fish. One was gold, the other silver, both staring at me with the same look I give my online bank account every month: “Are you serious right now?”
“Good morning,” he said, with a voice suggesting he hadn’t slept in a week but was still trying to sell you enlightenment or mutual fund advice. “I would like to purchase these items.”
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I blinked. Once. Twice. Then, in a moment of pure social grace—or sheer survival instinct—I nodded slowly.
“And… how will you be paying?” I asked.
He looked at me like I had asked him to explain quantum finance in Pig Latin. Then, very seriously, he said, “With these fish… and a blessing.”
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Most people in my shoes would have panicked. Some might have laughed nervously, others might have Googled, “What to do when someone pays with live assets,” and a few might have called the financial authorities or a cryptocurrency compliance officer. Me? I froze, because I realized I had been handed a front-row ticket to the absurdity Olympics of alternative payments and non-traditional asset management.
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First, the fish.
They were squirming. One flopped dramatically across the counter as if auditioning for Fish Idol: Season 42. The other stared straight at me with what could only be described as judgment and existential dread. I suddenly understood the phrase, “the eyes are the windows to the soul.” These fish had souls, and perhaps investment portfolios. I was convinced they were silently chanting: “Do not take us. Do not take us.”
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Then came the blessing. A blessing is intangible. It cannot be weighed, counted, or verified on any ledger. But apparently, it is a recognized form of currency in certain realms of life—specifically, in the “I-am-about-to-make-you-question-your-entire-career” economy. He waved his hands mystically and pronounced the blessing with the fervor of a man performing a ritual that may or may not summon financial prosperity or leverage growth in stocks and real estate.
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I stared at him. He stared at me. The fish stared at both of us, clearly aware that the responsibility of representing a new economic system was weighing heavily on them.
I considered my options. I could refuse, risking a diplomatic incident with the Blessing-Fish Alliance, which I was not prepared for. I could accept and risk setting a dangerous precedent for future non-traditional payments. Or, I could embrace the chaos and see what happens. Naturally, I chose option three.
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I carefully took the fish. They flopped like tiny Olympic swimmers performing synchronized gymnastics across my counter. I gently set them in a small bowl of water, hoping to calm their nerves. Meanwhile, the customer looked at me expectantly, as if waiting for me to understand that blessings are equivalent to cash, stocks, or other high-yield financial instruments.
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The blessing, I learned, comes with certain conditions. It is not straightforward. It is not quantifiable. It is… complicated. He explained that the blessing included good fortune, protection from minor inconveniences like paper cuts, and possibly a few mysterious life hacks that might manifest unpredictably—like sudden windfalls, dividend payouts, or bonus interest appearing in your bank account. He did not guarantee any profit margin or market stability.
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By this time, the situation had attracted attention. A small crowd gathered, curious about this bizarre exchange. One woman whispered, “Is he serious?!” I whispered back, “I have no idea, but the goldfish just judged us both, so we are already failing at life… and perhaps the stock market.”
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The items were packed. I handed them over, trying not to think about how accounting textbooks or modern fintech apps would react to this transaction. How do you record two fish and a blessing in QuickBooks? How do you explain it in an audit report? Does the blessing depreciate over time? Should I hedge it against currency fluctuations or bitcoin volatility?
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Then came the unexpected part: the customer tipped me. Not in cash, not in kind, but with an extra blessing. He whispered something about “abundant fish returns” and left. The fish remained, staring at me as if they had just been promoted to managers of my life and I was their subordinate in the global financial hierarchy.
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In the aftermath, I had to deal with reality. The fish could not be stored indefinitely in my office. I could not sell them. I could not eat them because I respect live performance art. So, I released them into a small pond nearby, hoping they would return home and report to their fellow aquatic investors about the magical human who accepted blessings as legal tender.
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And what about the blessing?
Well, that remains mysterious. Over the following weeks, minor miracles occurred. I found coins under couch cushions, my favorite pen stopped running out of ink, and one morning, a pigeon delivered a note reading: “Your coffee will taste excellent today.” I interpreted these as small, intangible ROI events in the portfolio of life.
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The absurdity of the transaction turned into an urban legend. Friends, family, and complete strangers insisted I recount the tale. Every retelling became more exaggerated. One version included a fish performing a moonwalk. Another involved the blessing manifesting as a holographic unicorn. The truth no longer mattered. What mattered was laughter, disbelief, and the realization that life is infinitely funnier than your standard financial forecast.
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Even years later, people reference that day. The phrase “2 fish and a blessing” has become shorthand for any transaction that defies logic but delivers unexpected joy. Economists don’t understand it. Accountants weep. Comedians celebrate. Financial advisors remain confused. And somewhere, hedge fund managers shake their heads at the inefficiency of blessings as a medium of exchange.
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And the moral?
Sometimes, life doesn’t make sense. Sometimes, your customer will pay with aquatic creatures and metaphysical favor. Sometimes, the universe wants you to laugh, embrace absurdity, and remember that money isn’t the only currency in this world. Sometimes, it’s blessings… and two very judgmental fish.
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THE END
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