Morals: FREE WRITE 1

My phone plan sucks! I get mad at my dad for being the Chinese man he is, not allowing me to be apart of the family plan because of course it would cost even more money to add another line. So I'm stuck with the Cingular Go Phone plan. He thinks he's saving himself some money, when in reality he isn't! Twenty five cents a call, and twenty five cents every minute after the first, is not being cheap at all.
Being oblivious to how this Cingular Go Phone plan is, my dad refuses to let me be apart of the family plan along with all of my older brothers. Because of this not-so-good-but-it's-better-than-nothing phone plan, I am forced to march down to the nearest 7-11 or Safeway weekly and buy my prepaid minutes card, even with my own money. My father only contributes $30 every two months. Even though my dad is the way he is, I still find it in my heart to forgive him for him being born with those bargain hunting genes in him.
It was the Saturday before my spring break trip, and I was doing my weekly trip to refill the minutes in my phone. As I walked to aisle nine, I decide buy a prepaid minutes card with twice the number of minutes I usually do. I didn't want to run low on my trip to the east coast. I walk to the cash register, while my mind praised me, "Good thinking Sara."
"$15 please young lady," the cashier asked.
I sadly handed him a crisp twenty dollar bill, thinking, "Twenty hard-earned dollars gone."
"Thank you and have a nice day young lady," he said handing my change back.
Walking out of the store, I look in my hand to find $15. Doubting myself for a second, I start doing the math and I realize he gave me an extra ten dollars. I guess the 'devil' side of me told me just to walk away. So I did. I then started to think of how I wouldn't be able to live with myself. So I started to walk back. But then I thought about what I could buy with those ten extra dollars. So I start heading towards the car instead. And then I started realizing that not only would I be disappointing myself, but I knew 'the man up there' would know what I did. I finally walked back into the store.
Finding that overly-nice cashier that loved to refer to me as a young lady, I start thinking that what I was doing was for the good. Handing him the extra ten dollars, he smiled and thanked me for catching his mistake. As I was taking my last few steps out of Safeway, a customer yelled, "Thanks for not being honest, nice girl!" And with those words, I felt better about returning those ten dollars, and I knew that it was appreciated even by a stranger.
During my walk to my car, I started thinking about how I would've felt if I really kept that crisp ten dollar bill and how I would still be holding it in my left butt pocket. But then I started to realize what my morals were. My morals help me to make important decisions that affect my image to other people. Everyones' morals are different, and I know what I think is right, is what someone else thinks is wrong. The way my parents raised me, the things my past teachers told me, and my past actions are how my morals are built. My morals are the building blocks of my character.