dirty

every day something happens in this coffee house that causes me to wonder.... i wonder things like:


is this dude serious?

is this lady an idiot?

am i on candid camera?

would i ever behave in this way?

is this as funny as it seems to me?



today does not disappoint.



a man came in a few minutes ago and said to me as he waited in line, "i am going to give you a lot of pennies today, for a tip." ok.




when it was his turn at bat, he asked about the house blend. i don't know why he bothered because we both knew he was going to order it regardless of what i said about it. this he confirmed for me by not listening to my description at all and just ordering it anyway. i poured the man's coffee and when i brought it back to the counter, he dumped a pound and a half of pennies, nickels and dimes out of the cup holder liner from his van. after a momentary hesitation and glance at his mound o' change, he looked up at me and said, "actually, i am kind of in a hurry. whatever is left is yours." and he slid the whole pile across the counter toward me.



here is what i know about change that collects in large sums, especially in cars: as a collective unit, it acquires myriad life substances, most of which i don't want to touch. i looked at my new-found wealth and all i could think of was the fact that this pile of metal is full of pocket lint and pet hair and hand sweat and dead skin and sneezes and hair oils and countless life remnants that i wouldn't even want to fathom. touching all of it in order to count out 190 of his dirty little pennies was so not on my agenda for the day. i promptly pushed the collection into a paper cup which would become my new change collection and paid for his coffee with dollars from the tip jar. i think i'll let the change counter at the bank deal with the chewing gum shrapnel and pubic hair. machines don't mind that kind of thing.