As I was picking up my laundry, an older Polish man came in and put a five dollar bill on the counter next to me. The Asian woman ringing up my laundry looked at it.
‘Five dollar quarters?’ she said.
‘Uh, four and four quarters,’ said the man.
‘No–’
‘For the meter! The meter!’
‘No! We are not a bank!’
A long, uncomfortable staredown ensued.
‘Forget it,’ said the woman.
Another long, uncomfortable staredown, during which I paid for my laundry.
‘You go down there!’ said the woman, pointing vaguely East. ‘To the Western Union!’
‘Oh, okay!’ said the old dude, with heavy sarcasm. ‘Thank you! Have a nice evening!’
‘Uh-huh.’
‘Excuse me,’ he said grandly, bowing himself out the door. ‘Good evening!’
