During my high school years my best friend was Susan Miller, a girl who had lived down the street from me all her life. We knew each other well and had many interests in common. One way in which we were different, however, was in our shopping habits. When I shopped, I always knew what I wanted, got it quickly, and left. For Susan, shopping was a game. She spent all day at it: examining, comparing, and finally, if conditions were right, buying. All too often I have spent hours waiting for her to make up her mind. In fact, my longest "shopathon" was on a Christmas Eve when Susan and I went to pick up a few last-minute gifts. She wanted a fit for her father, and I had to get something for my youngest sister, Sara. We started at 9:00 A.M., and by 10:15 I had bought Sara her gift, a toy Dalmatian. Then I just trudged around the mall after Susan. By one o'clock she still had not made a purchase, and the mall was becoming human gridlock. Finally feeling some compassion, Susan bought herself and me each a slice of pizza. We had to eat standing up; the tables were all filled. Then, walking and walking through endless stores, we continued shopping. She examined shirts, scarves, ties, knickknacks. Her response to every possibility was negative: her father had it, he wouldn't like it, this was too expensive, and that was too cheap. Nothing seemed right for Susan's father. Finally, fifteen minutes before the mall was scheduled to close, she came out of a store in triumph. "I got it!"she said. I looked up from where I was sitting on a bench, rubbing my swollen feet. "What?" I asked weakly. She held up a piece of paper. "A gift certificate!"she exclaimed. "With this my father can get whatever he wants."