The Five-Million-Dollar Comma

Cedar Valley News
Fictorial Number 401 · August 31, 2026
The Five-Million-Dollar Comma
By Teresa Nikas

A young reporter caught me this morning, red pen in hand, moving one single comma back into a sentence, and asked me, not unkindly, whether anybody on this green earth cares about a comma.

Oh, my friend. Pull up a chair. Let me show you the most powerful little mark in the whole language.

Here is a sentence. I baked pies for my parents, the mayor, and the dog. Read it slowly. Three happy deliveries, clear as a bell. My parents got a pie. The mayor got a pie. And the dog got a pie, because the dog, frankly, is a very good dog and had a hard week.

Now watch closely. I am going to reach in and pluck out one comma. Just the last one, the little fellow sitting right before the and. I baked pies for my parents, the mayor and the dog.

Do you see what just happened there? Suddenly it reads as though my parents ARE the mayor and the dog. As though I was raised, from a pup, by His Honor and a Labrador retriever. One comma went missing, and my entire family tree fell straight out of the sky, and now I have a Labrador for a father and the mayor for a mother, and Thanksgiving is going to be very confusing.

The little mark I put back has a name. We editors call it the serial comma, or the Oxford comma, and it is the one you set in before the last and/or in a list. Some folks swear by it. Some folks leave it out and sleep like babies. People have ended friendships over less, and I am not entirely joking. And I could tell you it is mostly a matter of taste, and it mostly is, and we could all go on and enjoy our Monday.

Except for the small matter of what happened up in Maine.

In 2017, a group of dairy truck drivers took the company they drove for to court. They said they were owed years and years of overtime, real money, earned out on the road. The company said, oh no, sorry, the law says your sort of work does not earn overtime, and pointed at the rule book. And the rule book listed the exempt jobs, and the list ended, I promise you, like this: the packing for shipment or distribution of certain foods.

And everyone stood around squinting at it. Because without our little comma, not one soul could say for certain what it meant. Was distribution its own separate job on the list? Or was the whole thing one single job, packing, done for shipment or for distribution? The drivers, you understand, never packed a thing in their lives. They only distributed. So if distribution was its own item, they lost. And if it was not, they won a mountain of back pay.

Well, the judges took the sentence. They turned it over. They held it up to the light. They simply could not make it behave. In the end, they threw up their hands and ruled for the drivers, because a law so muddy has to tip toward the little guy. For want of a comma, the judge wrote, we have this case.

The bill for the missing comma came to about $5 million, split among more than 120 drivers. Five million dollars. For a mark so small you could lose it under a crumb, or mistake it for a speck on your reading glasses.

So here is what I would dearly love to say to my skeptical young reporter, and to you. Yes. Somebody cares about the comma. The dairy up in Maine cares enormously. And I care, here at my desk with my red pen, because a comma is the whole difference between a list and a pileup, between the mayor coming to dinner and the mayor being my actual father.

It is the smallest thing I do all day long. It is also, every so often, worth $5 million.

Now, if you will kindly excuse me. The dog is still waiting on his pie. And I fully intend to punctuate the sentence very correctly indeed.

Cedar Valley News has a Facebook group. If you have comments and want to join the conversation, you are welcome. And tell me, because I truly want to know: are you a serial-comma person, or not? Come and defend your side. I will referee, gently. And if we get something wrong, tell us, and we will run the correction.

Cedar Valley News is free, and it comes to your inbox every morning, six days a week. If this morning’s fictorial was worth your time, please forward it to someone who would value it. And if someone forwarded it to you and you’d like your own each morning, you can subscribe here.

This fictorial is part of the fictional Cedar Valley News series, written by Evan Swensen, Publisher, and Claude Marshall, AI Developmental Editor. While Teresa and her town are fictional, the case is real. In O’Connor v. Oakhurst Dairy (First Circuit, 2017), delivery drivers in Maine sued for unpaid overtime. A state law exempted “the canning, processing, preserving, freezing, drying, marketing, storing, packing for shipment or distribution of” certain foods; the absence of a serial (Oxford) comma before “or distribution” made it ambiguous whether distribution was a separately exempted activity. The court resolved the ambiguity in the drivers’ favor, with Judge David Barron writing, “For want of a comma, we have this case.” The parties settled in 2018 for about $5 million, covering more than 120 drivers, and Maine later amended the law. Sources include the First Circuit opinion, the Associated Press, and CNN.

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