For the love of money

One thing that really bothers me is that no one here seems to have any change. Either that or they look at your money like it was printed at Milton Bradley. Look, I'm sorry that this five doesn't have any cigarette burns on it, but I can assure you that despite it's lack of wear, it is real money. But still, they feel it, hold it up to the light, call Ms. Cleo, align their chakras.

Back to the change. We were getting almuerzos one day after class (huge lunches for $1.50 each) and I go to pay and I give the guy a ten, and he looks at me like, "If I'd known you'd be using large bills, I would've, you know, not used a cup as my cash register." Now, I know, I'm the one who gave him a ten, but I couldn't give him a five, cause I didn't have one. And I couldn't give him a one, because the lunch was three dollars, and a one would've been insufficient.

He takes my ten, money is money after all, and digs through his cup looking for change, mostly fifty cent pieces. He only manages to muster four dollars before asking his (presumable) wife if she had change. (Well, you can probably guess where this story is going) She didn't. But she did ask another customer for change. Which he had. Sort of. I Think. I'm not really sure quite what happened, but I'm pretty sure I didn't lose any money in the deal.

Thankfully the ATMs here do give out fives, but maybe they can be bred with a slot machine, so that you can just put your card in and hold your over-sized drink cup underneath and, viola, no need for change ever again. Although, then you'll have to go to the renaissance fair to find a pouch big enough for all those coins. Then they'll probably tell you that they only accept bills as payment.

-Ryan