They had told us the prices would be competitive with what we were paying before, and ultimately, we’d be paying less for our food when Congress approved the creation of the Federal Market.  One by one, the grocery chains all closed, and that left us with only one place to shop. 

And so, one morning, I stopped in and I picked up a gallon of milk for eight dollars, a loaf of bread for seven, and a carton of eggs for five.  I placed my purchases in the cart and headed for the express checkout line, and paid my twenty dollars. 

The clerk promptly rang it all up, then did something weird:  she took the milk jug, and poured a six ounce glass of milk and set it aside.  Then she took the loaf of bread, and removed a single slice.  Finally, she took one egg from the carton.  She then took the remaining milk, the loaf, and the eggs, threw them away, and said, “Thank you for shopping with us.  Have a nice day.”

“Wait a second,” I demanded.  “I just paid you twenty dollars for a gallon of milk, a loaf of bread, and a carton of eggs!  What’s going on?”

“Why, that’s our policy here at the Federal Market,” she explained sweetly.  “You pay us, and we give your purchases to someone less fortunate than you.”

“But that’s my milk, my bread, and my eggs!” I demanded.

“Yes, and since you can afford them, we’re taking them from you and giving them to someone who can’t.  It’s really quite simple when you think about it.  After all, if you can afford it, you really don’t need it.  So we give your purchases to someone who does.”

“But I do need them,” I explained.  “That’s why I bought them.”

“Of course!” she said with a smile.  “As does everyone.  And so, we do what’s best for everyone, and give your purchases to someone who otherwise couldn’t afford them.”

Now, I was confused.  “Well, how do you know what’s best?”

She sighed with frustration.  “Because we are the Federal Market.  We’re supposed to know what’s best for everyone.  It’s our job.”

“But you only took a six ounce glass of milk, one slice of bread, and one egg?  You tossed out nearly a full gallon of milk, nearly a whole loaf of bread, and eleven eggs.”

“We would never do such a thing at the Federal Market.  We carefully manage our inventory as faithful stewards of our resources.  That way, we can give everything you purchased to someone else.”

“But you’re not giving them everything I purchased.  You’re only giving them six ounces of milk, a slice of bread, and one egg.”

“That’s right.  And think of how much they would have gotten if we’d done things the old fashioned way by giving you the things you purchased.  It’s much more compassionate this way, don’t you think?”

“But you wasted nearly a whole gallon of milk, nearly a whole loaf of bread, and eleven eggs!  What’s compassionate about that?” I demanded.  “I mean, if you hadn’t run the other markets out of business, I could have gone to another store, and bought three gallons of milk, given two gallons away, and kept one for myself.”

“But you never did that before, did you?” the clerk countered.  “When there were all those other stores, (interested only in profit, and not thinking about people who couldn’t afford milk), you only bought one gallon of milk, and you drank it all yourself.  If you do things our way, people who couldn’t afford milk get milk they wouldn’t have otherwise gotten.”

“But they’re only getting six ounces!”

“But that’s six ounces they wouldn’t have gotten otherwise.”

“But you wasted...”

“We don’t waste.  We are inherently more efficient here at the Federal Market than most people.  After all, we are the only market in town.”

“When there were other markets in town, we used to be able to buy milk for $2.20...”

“...Yes, and the price has been reduced in recent days.”

“Reduced?”

“Well, yes.  We were going to charge ten dollars this week, but we’re only charging eight, so you’re saving two.”

“But eight dollars is more than $2.20!  And I still didn’t get to keep my gallon of milk!”

“...Which you would drink all by yourself.  Now, everyone gets milk.”

“But I didn’t get any.  You took my money, and kept the milk, wasting nearly all of it.”

“Isn’t it possible the milk might have gone bad sitting in your refrigerator?  I mean, can you really expect us to believe you can drink a whole gallon of milk by yourself?”

I could see I wasn’t getting anywhere.  “In that case, I want a refund.”

“Why would you want a refund?  Don’t you realize that with us, you get your money’s worth?”

“But I didn’t get my money’s worth.  I want my money back!”

“All right, Sir.  I’ll refund you the cost of the milk.”

“But I paid you twenty dollars, not only for the milk, but the bread and the eggs as well.”

“Are you certain?”

I showed her the receipt. 

She sighed.  “Well, all right.  But it will take three months for us to process your refund.  And you’ll only get back $5.80.”

“Well, do I get the milk, then?”

“No, of course not.  What would we give those poor people who can’t afford milk?”

“Why can’t I get all my money back?  I mean, I didn’t get any of my purchases.”

“Because,” she explained, “just like expecting to be able to take home all of your purchases, that would be greedy.”

I turned around to face the other people in line.  “IS ANYONE ELSE HERE GREEDY?”

Everyone in line raised their hand.

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