The Quarter

I used to sit near the break room. One day a colleague, James, loudly asked if anyone had a nickel. Apparently he was 5 cents short of affording the candy bar that he desperately wanted but certainly didn't need.

I waited until it was painfully obvious that nobody else was going to bridge the gap between him and vending machine bliss before I offered up the only piece of change I had (which happened to be a quarter.)

He grabbed the quarter (which inspired me to sanitize my hands - and not because I had just handled money) and walked around the corner toward the break room. I could hear the change being swallowed up by the machine, the sound of the coveted chocolate bar crashing into its target followed by the two tiny dimes falling into the change dispenser and then the sound of the change dispenser flap (as it's officially called) dropping back into place.

James then emerged from the break room, already devouring his prize. I turned in my chair and began to put my hand out for the two dimes that were surely coming my way when I realized that James had no intention of giving me my change. He brushed past me and took his seat at the end of the aisle.

Now 20 cents isn't a huge deal but I really struggled with the details of this event. My first thought was to make an excuse for his lack of courtesy. Maybe he just forgot?? Forgetting was actually the only explanation I could come up with in his defense. After much deliberation and character evaluation, I came to the conclusion that he didn't forget, that is just the type of person he is.