I include this Isaac Asimov anecdote because it reminds me of some of the stupid things I have done from time to time. Although I don’t think I’ve ever done anything quite as publicly as this. Or if I have, I have erased it from my memory.

I feel that, as a matter of principle, I ought to record every piece of egregious Asimovian stupidity I can remember, if only to have it act as a partial canceling-out of the unjustified reputation I have for universal wisdom.

We received a gas bill for $6.50 toward the end of 1946, which was just twice as high as the gas bill anyone else in the apartment building got. We checked that, to make sure, and we were furious.

On December 11, I went to the offices of the gas company in downtown Brooklyn to demand reparation, restitution, and a groveling apology. I waited in line in the greatest indignation and when I finally got to the window, I slapped down the bill and said, angrily, “See here, we have never used enough gas to bring us up to the $2.00 minimum. We have no children. We both work. We cook perhaps four meals a week. How can we possibly get a bill for $6.50? I demand an explanation.”

The man behind the counter looked at me mildly. “You really insist on an explanation?”

“Certainly. If you can think of one besides general incompetence.”

“Fortunately,” he said, “I can think of one. This is an electric bill.”

You never saw so quiet and humble a retreat in your life.