Making Change

“Who are you?”

To think a simple request to a stranger to make change for my hundred-dollar bill, would elicit such a demeaning question.

“It was a simple request for some alternate bills for my legal currency. How dare you?” I slap the insulter firmly upon his cheek, but not rough enough to injure. No one should question my existence and awareness of space & time, especially not a stranger.

The man rubs his cheek, rustling up the cloth mask covering his nose and mouth. “I just didn’t know if I knew you. Not many random people ask for change while walking down the street.”

I make a shooing gesture with my hands, “Be gone. Leave my eye line.” The firmness of my voice must have made an impression because the man quickly scuttles off. Sure these scallywags can hoot and holler when we walk by, but god forbid they make a little change for a lady in need. I can feel the heat in my face. Burning. Anger stewing. I try to focus on breathing, so my ears don’t whistle like a tea kettle coming to a boil.

Tucking the hundred back in my pocket, I start walking again. Scoffing to myself at the inconvenience of a hundred-dollar bill, I nearly plow into a door being opened in front of me.

The lady who opened the door barely glances at me as she hurries off down the street. “Bitch.” I mutter to myself and grab the closing door and head into the liquor store.

“Can you make change for a hundred?” I pull the hundred from my pocket and hold it out to the clerk. He doesn’t even look up from his comic book.

“Sure can. As long as you are buying something.” The clerk just keeps reading his comic.

“I just need some change. It’s not like you’re losing money. It’s a fair exchange. I just need some smaller bills, so I can pitch in for a dinner date this evening. It’s our first date, so I’m a bit nervous already. So can you just not be a jerk?” I press the bill against the glass partition trying to show the clerk that the bill is legal tender.

Well, praise the lord! The clerk finally looks up from the latest issue of buff men in tights wrestling with one another whilst trying not to get an erection. “Just let the guy pay,” and his nose goes right back into the magazine.

There is that burning anger again. Boiling just below the surface of my mind. “Firstly, how do you know my date is with a man? You know as much as you’d like it to just be Adam and Eve like your precious bible, that just is not the reality. Secondly, I can pay for my own meal, and I don’t need someone I barely know taking on that burden, especially considering the current climate of our society. So, just open up that till and swap out some smaller bills for a larger one of the same value.” I tap the bill as I hold it against the glass to emphasize my request.

“Firstly, I’ve never read the bible. Secondly, just as soon as you pick out something to purchase, I shall gladly exchange your currency for goods and services rendered.” No eye contact. Anger bubbling inside me like liquid magma.

“Just know that you are dooming the world to a cataclysmic future.” I slap a pack of gum onto the counter.

“So, you’re failure to conform to the basic standards of business signifies my contribution to our deteriorating society?” The clerk grabs the pack of gum and scans it.

“It’s surely not, not your fault with such a blasé attitude towards the struggles of others.” I grab the change from my purchase and storm off. Dejected.

“Thank you and come again!” I look back and the clerk gives me a fake smile that cuts to my core.

Outside, the air feels extra frosty as I try to dissipate the anger I feel inside. I throw a few wild punches into the air and pull off a wicked roundhouse kick. I feel my foot hit something and hear someone cry out. I turn around and see an old lady on the ground, her metal walker a few feet away from her.

“Oh my gosh! I am so sorry.” I hurry over to render aid to the fallen elderly woman. I grab her and help her to her feet. “I was frustrated with an interaction with a particularly unpleasant person, but I did not mean to take it out on you.” My apology pours out as I grab the walker while holding the frail woman upright.

“Don’t worry about it. I will live a few more days.” The woman smiles and her teeth are in surprisingly good order. “That was a heck of a beautiful kick if you don’t mind me saying.”

I laugh. I want to kiss this little angel woman on her lips. “I am sorry again. Never would I want to hurt anyone as pleasant as yourself. It seems that many times the victims of our anger are those that are completely innocent.” I brush the woman off gently and check her for damage.

“Regretfully, I can recall many instances of dealing with unpleasantries. Wish it was not the case. Thankfully the pleasant memories somewhat outweigh the unpleasant ones. Would be nice if we could just give the world a sweet roundhouse like the one you just performed and set things right.” Walking alongside the lady, I cheerfully let her ruminate on life. I feel peaceful. The anger has vanished.

I walk the lady to her door, even though it’s a couple of blocks in the opposite direction of my date. The information that I have absorbed from this gentlewoman on our walk is vast. Her name is Janet, and she is eighty-six years young. However, who she is has nothing to do with any of that information, and I could already fill a book with her wisdom. Unfortunately, for now, we must part ways. Gently, my lips kiss her on the forehead, and I pledge to stop by later in the week to check in on her.

“My dear, word of advice: save your breathtaking displays of karate for the third or fourth date. You have to make sure they are worthy of your ninja skills.” I’m still chuckling as Janet disappears inside.

Arriving at the restaurant a few minutes late, I stop at the door and take a deep breath. Once, inside I scan the room for my date. The photo matches a person near the back of the restaurant. Seemingly safe from a Catfish situation, I approach. “Sorry, I’m late. There were some...incidents.”

“No worries. Nothing too catastrophic I hope.” My date stands and steps over to help pull the chair out for me.

“Thank you.” A waiter approaches as I settle into my seat.

“Would you like something to drink?” The waiter makes eye contact waiting for my drink order.

“I’ll have a glass of Merlot, please.” I mispronounce Merlot as “Mer-lot”. It’s just a little thing I do to see who will correct me. I find that there are plenty of people who enjoy correcting someone’s mistakes.

“One Merlot coming right up.” Of course, the waiter uses the correct pronunciation and then scurries off, most likely quite pleased with how superior he feels.

“Obviously, I know how to pronounce Merlot, but I just like to mess with people I guess.” Looking into my date’s eyes I try to ascertain if they believe me. Not that I care what they think. Then again, of course, I care.

“Sometimes, I mispronounce words just to see if the other person is listening. The look in their eyes when they are actually listening and realize the mistake is something that makes me feel alive.” My date blushes slightly and it is comforting to know they are a real human person.

The conversation starts light but gains a steady momentum, perpetual in its intensity. As the waiter approaches with my glass of wine, I am filled with a certainty that I will be showing off my karate moves later tonight.