Monday, November 21, 2005

The Crazy Lady

I'm waiting to order a coffee but there is a old disheveled woman ahead of me giving the clerk a hard time.

"You people are handing back more money than people are giving you." The clerk, a young twiggy woman, with jet black hair and one pierced eyebrow replied in a measured but pretend-polite manner, "Excuse me?"

Slightly louder, she repeated, "I'm telling you, you are handing back more money than people are giving you. That’s crazy!" The clerk replied in a firm tone: "Yes, that is crazy. We don't do that here. Now please excuse me, there is another customer waiting." She motioned her punctured eyebrow toward me. The crazy lady glared at me, shook her head, and walked over to the condiment counter, muttering. The clerk rolled her eyes and shrugged. “Sorry."

I stepped forward and ordered my usual large coffee. Black. She poured it deftly with a multi-colored tattooed hand, handing it to me within seconds. "A dollar eighty four please." I gave her a ten. As change, she handed me fourteen dollars and sixteen cents."


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