For several years an elderly woman sold pretzels near Heritage Square for 50 cents each. I passed her cart frequently. I love a good pretzel, but they go right to my waistline. I so admired her entrepreneurial spirit; I’d always leave two quarters but never take a pretzel. We never spoke, but we did make eye contact. She would always nod in gratitude, and I would be on my way without a pretzel. One day, I passed her cart and laid down two quarters. For the first time ever, she spoke to me. “Sir,” she said. “I appreciate your business. You are my best customer, but you need to know something. The price of pretzels has gone up to 75 cents.”

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