Penny Lover

Just about every morning I stop at a local convenience store (I suppose the fact that it is local adds to its inherent convenience, but I digress), and all too often my purchases have totaled $1.99, or $2.49 or whatever, and I generally hand the cashier $2.00 or $2.50 respectively.  You get the idea.  And these transactions have been causing me more and more anxiety as well as a feeling of what can only be described as general uneasiness.

Sometimes I wait for my change – one shiny penny.  Other times I don’t.  On the occasions I wait for my cent, I feel the cashier’s disdain surround me and hear its inaudible scream:  “IT’S JUST A PENNY, DUDE!  MOVE ALONG!” and he seems to take his sweet time digging a dull and dingy penny out of his drawer, then hands it to me so awkwardly that I fumble the exchange, letting the penny fall into a box of Tic-Tacs.

Now I’m holding up the whole line.

On those occasions when I don’t wait for the change, or more precisely “wave off” the change, I feel the cashier’s eyes scrutinizing me, looking me up and down, checking out my clothes, as if to say, “Oh, Mister Big Baller doesn’t need a penny.  He’s got more money than he knows what to do with.  If he’s so independently wealthy, why don’t he ever donate a dollar for Children’s Cancer Research when I ask him every morning.”

It truly is a no-win situation.  I’ve actually grown so tired of being judged thusly that I’ve started carrying 99 cents in my pocket everywhere I go.  Why must I suffer like this?!

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