Keep the Change

How much is the $10 dinner box?  the woman ahead of me in asked the young man behind the counter.  It was her fourth or fifth choice after a careful and oblivious study of the menu and the customers behind her, myself included, were exasperated.


The restless take out line grew suddenly silent, one or two customers sighed, all of us looked up expectantly.  For a moment the young man's smile faltered, then he apparently had an insight.  Let me check for you, ma'am, he said politely and he turned to look up at the huge, overhead menu on the wall behind him.  Well, whaddya know, he told her when he turned back around, The $10 dinner box is $10.  She considered this for a moment, then plucked a $10 bill from a worn out purse and laid it on the counter.  I'll have one then, she said.


Yes, ma'am, the young man said, With tax, it'll be........
An even $10, an older and deeper voice cut in from behind me, then in a softer, muted tone, more to himself than anyone else, I judged, Or we'll never get home for dinner.  The owner of the voice, a harried looking, gray haired man in a suit and tie, excused himself and went around me to lay a handful of change on top of the woman's $10, then resumed his place in line.


The store manager, who had appeared to see what exactly was holding up the ever growing line, had overheard this and nodded to the young man.  An even $10, he agreed, Who's next?