Lucky, or Not

    Imagine, if you will, that your name is something dreadfully dull. Your family and friends, though, have always considered you amazingly fortunate, and so they've called you "Lucky" since you were a wee tot. Being the enterprising sort, you've always wanted to be your own boss, to set your own schedule, to follow the wind, to be ruled by no one but yourself. So you save up all your money, perhaps in a cigar box. You've decided to launch...a cigarette shop. Yeah, that's it: cigars, cigarettes, and all the associated paraphernalia. And it'll be located pretty close to downtown DeK, in a strip-mall at the intersection of First and H Street. Conveniently grouped there with a tan spa, a cash exchange, a dry-cleaner, and a salon/nail place, it's bound to be a hit.
    You've gone to the local library to do some research, and although you can't find a damned thing on the shelf because there's not an item in that library that's ordered accurately, you manage to interlibrary loan some things from the library consortium that help you. You learn about marketing and advertising, and determine that a catchy name for your concern is absolutely key for its eventual success. "I will name it after myself!" you say. "What could go wrong with a name like 'Lucky's Tobacco'?"
    Then you begin to order your business supplies. Letterhead, receipts, complimentary matches and Frisbees®. You make arrangements for the major advertising outlay for your fledgling shop--the large sign to be installed outside. You hold your grand opening, and are amazed and thrilled by your success! OK, so you're no Megan Morrison, but you're doing OK and you don't even fold when the 'Mobil coming soon' sign remains in place for the better part of 7 years...before being ignominiously removed (and no Mobil station erected in its place).
    A few years later, though, you discover that you might not be so lucky after all. You look out your front window on a Saturday afternoon and see some smart-ass woman sitting in her car in your parking lot, taking pictures of your sign, laughing like a freak. It seems that you--and your sign maker--didn't check that tricky spelling of "Tobacco" one last time before committing it to glass and metal.
    Dang it.