Steal-of-the-Century Purchase is so Good it still Feels like Stealing.

I cannot BELIEEEEEVE what just happened. I went into Goodwill after donating a Santa-sized sack of clothing and WHAT DO I FIND BUT A BEAUTIFUL DESIGNER PURSE STUFFED AWAY BEHIND SOME TACKY HANDBAGS. Now, this Goodwill is a little hip and with it, ok? They're on the swanky side of town and they know that people drop off some good duds. I know they know because they charge more for those duds. They'll charge $19.99 for a Coach bag (still a steal) and $14.99 for a Liz Claiborne bag. BUT THEY ARE BLITHELY UNAWARE THAT A SALVATORE FERRAGAMO BAG RETAILS FOR A GODDAMN G, Y'ALL. A GODDDAMN G. 

Now, I'm lookin this bag up and down. Is it severely damaged?  What's the leather FEEL like? What's the interior made out of? Is there an ID number? Does the zipper look cheap? Is the name spelled correctly? The bag passes inspection. It's black, slick, and made of stiff leather, with the signature buckle on the front. It's lost a little shape and has a scuff on the back, but is otherwise in perfect condition. I look for the ziptie with the price written on it (standard for designer duds at Goodwill) but there is no ziptie, Y'ALL. There's a little red tag. "Holy s***balls and spaghetti!" I think to myself. "There's no way they don't realize this bag is worth a fortune."

I stop oggling the purse. They can't know this bag is worth more than literally EVERYTHING ELSE IN THE STORE, and I'm low key tweaking out keeping that informatiom to myself. I felt that rush that shoplifters get and I was in line to PAY for the bag! After waiting an eternity, the lady at the counter takes the bag, peeks inside, and goes, "Oh, that's a cute purse." My greedy shoulder angel is like, "PLAY IT DOWN, GIRL. PLAY. IT. DOWN." I say some wishy-washy 'oh yes just a nice little black purse nothing to see here' when the moment of truth comes.

"That'll be $5.29, would you like to donate the extra penny to round up to thirty cents?" 

"Sure. I'll donate a penny." 

Then I twirled the bag above my head, shouted obsenities and finger gunned a couple rounds into the air before blowing out imaginary smoke, all while my mouth said on full autopilot, "Sure, that's fine. Have a great day!"