I was in my car, in line at the drive-through when I noticed the SUV and RV parked at the back of the lot. A grandfather and his three grandchildren came around from behind the RV with a dog on a leash. There were children’s bikes on a rack on the back of the RV and I started to imagine the week these kids were having with their grandparents, on a vacation without Mom and Dad.

While I continued to wait my turn, Grandma came out of the restaurant with bags in her hand, obviously having gone inside to get their orders. She had several bags, but only one drink and I chuckled at what I imagined had taken place – surely cheaper to drink the water or drinks they had in their own cooler than to buy more than one at the restaurant.

I pulled up and ordered my food and was waiting to pay for it when I saw Grandma returning to the restaurant with her long receipt in hand and I laughed out loud. Her expression told the whole story. Something was clearly wrong with their order and she was bound to set it right. As I collected my meal and drove home I offered up a quick prayer for those three hungry children who probably just wanted to eat and get on with the drive.

Later, I was in the grocery store, waiting my turn at the self-checkout lane when I saw a woman stop scanning her items and open up the weekly printed flyer, I presume to check a price. Again, I shook my head as I approached the register and started scanning my own items, never once looking at the screen to make sure the price was correct (in all honestly, I only had a vague notion of what each item cost, so even looking up at the screen would have done me little good in terms of checking the pricing as it rang up).

All of this reminded me of the take-out meal we had with my dad and Judy while we were in TN. We initially thought the restaurant had forgotten to include part of our order, at which point my dad was eager to call and let them know so they could credit James’ debit card for the error, but upon further investigation, we found the restaurant had actually given us everything we had ordered and had included a bowl of chicken gumbo, which we had not ordered. My dad was still ready to call to let the restaurant know this error, “in case the people who were missing their gumbo called,” he explained.

It occurred to me driving home from running errands today, that we are in big trouble. We have only so many years left of this elder generation being around to correct all the mistakes that are happening around us. Whether it’s wrong take-out orders, or grocery store prices that don’t ring up correctly, it is this older generation that currently voices these mistakes and holds people and businesses accountable for the errors. Left up to my generation, well, we aren’t going to see quality control like that.

If James and I get fast food and discover ten miles down the road (or even in the parking lot) that the order isn’t complete, we just shrug, make some comment about getting what we paid for and we make do. And as I’ve mentioned above, I would never notice unless it was extremely glaring that a price rang up differently than advertised – I have to correct that statement – I wouldn’t even know what it was advertised for – so a price would have to just be absolutely staggeringly wrong for me to even notice. Like the time at the nursery when the woman rang up nine flats of perennials instead of just nine perennials. That was a huge mistake. I caught that one. But if the grapes rang up at $2.99 a pound instead of $2.49? I’d have no clue. (Man, if my dad had any idea how I calculate a tip in a restaurant he would lose his mind!)

So, to this older generation, I have to say thank you. You are probably the only reason that the rest of us aren’t being hoodwinked on a more regular basis. Thank you for the hours you spend on the phone letting customer service representatives know about the errors they are making. Thank you for drawing attention to the food orders that were doled out incorrectly. And thank you for price checking to make sure grocery stores don’t just run away with an extra $.50 for grapes.

For the businesses out there, all I can say is be patient. In twenty years you will be left with just us and we don’t have the energy or concern to argue or spend time on these things. There will come a day when you won’t have to worry about someone (ahem, Dad) showing up at your branch office with your most recent mailing in hand letting you know all the ways it was infuriatingly wrong. Quality control. It’s just going to be so hard to come by.