“Oh, do you have any change?” The lady in front of me at Caribou Coffee asks the cashier. She frantically pats her pockets and rummages through her bag.
“I do,” I say, digging through my change purse. I hand her a dime.
“I only need three pennies,” she says and hands it back.
“That’s ten pennies,” I say and hand it back to her.
It’s a little “Who’s On First” to me. Need a penny? I have a penny. Who’s penny? Your penny. My penny? Your penny.
The cashier watches the exchange in amusement, takes the dime and hands the woman back seven cents.
“This is yours,” the lady says and passes me the nickel and pennies.
I drop the change into a white cup with a sign that reads, “Need a Penny. Take a Penny.”