The Pit Stop is sleepy on weekday mornings. The workers stand behind their registers picking at their fingernails and gossiping. An older employee scans barcodes on Tylenol boxes. Every now and then, a customer will glide through, grab an energy drink, get his card swiped, and toss the receipt in the trash can beside the sign that says not to throw the receipt in the trash can.
But one customer lingered. He inspected the display of cast-off Krispy Kreme donuts, the candy-store throwback bins of so many Swedish Fish, the many varieties of off-brand deodorants. After searching the tiny store for about 15 minutes, he selected a bottle of soda and a candy bar, totaling $3.97.
The cashier, a younger student with freshly curled hair and a persistent yawn, stuck out her hand to accept OneCard payment. She was halfway through "Flex or expense?" when she noticed he had deposited a one hundred dollar bill in her hand.
She popped open the register and examined the few bills inside. "I don't think we can break this..."
The customer did not answer. He just slid the bottle closer to the register. The cashier began counting money.
"10... 20... 30... 40... 50... 55... 60..."
"Do you need some more cash?"
"I don't know. I lost count."
"10...20...30...40..."
After several more attempts, the customer finally had his change and his purchases. He stuffed the wad of cash into his pocket and left, sipping the drink.
The cashier's drawer was practically empty.
"This is the most excitement we've had all year," she said, to no one in particular.
The other cashier picked up a walkie-talkie and mumbled some technical codes into it. "Can we have some more 10s at the Pit Stop?"
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