Never Trust A Lawyer

I was at the grocery store in Silver Spring, debating the merits of cheddar over swiss in the deli section, when I made eye contact with a woman. We both smiled and she mentioned something in passing. Not having caught it, I turned.
"I'm extremely embarrassed... but can I ask you for a favor?" She must have been having the same cheese dilemma so I continued listening.
"I've locked my keys and purse in the BMW outside and I desperately need to get home. Would you be able to loan me ten dollars for a taxi?"
Okay- I know what your thinking. She's a crack whore and I should walk away. But here's the catcher: she was well-dressed, extremely well-spoken, and I was standing in the damn cheese aisle- it's not a hotbed for pan-handlers these days.
"I'm a lawyer with Roberson, Dutch and Wade downtown- I can give you my employee ID and you can call to verify it if you don't believe me. Aside from that-the only thing I can give you right now is my word that I will pay you back."
Damn that Catholic guilt.
I pretty much wrote off ten bucks in my head, but then I said, "I'll loan you the money. But do you mind walking me to your car just so I can be sure it's legit?"
"I can, but the car is parked in the metro lot across the way."
Hmm.
"Why don't I call BMW for you?" As all good queens know, BMW has 24-hour service. God love those insomniac Germans.
Apparently I was making this too difficult and she lost it.
"DON'T YOU DARE CONDESCEND ME! I can make my own fucking phone calls. You're are all the same. Faggots." And she stormed away.
Wow.
And to think I just wanted to get some cheese.