The post office on Elm Street had seen better days.
The fluorescent light in the corner had been flickering since the pandemic, the “NEXT WINDOW PLEASE” sign was held up with a clear tape paperclip.
Then Carla walked in.
Sixty-three years old, church hat tilted with the net over her face at a very confident forty-five degrees.
Pocketbook the size of a carry-on bag swinging from her elbow like a wrecking ball.
She stepped up to the counter.
“Good afternoon, baby. I need one stamp.”
The cashier — Marcus, twenty-four years old, who has one more year until his transfer showed his government-employee smile.
“Good afternoon, ma’am. Stamps are seventy-five cents each.”
Carla blinked.
Then she blinked again.
Then she tilted her head like a confused golden retriever in a church hat.
“…Seventy-five cents?”
“Yes ma’am.”
“Hell No! For one?”
“Yes ma’am.”
She set her pocketbook on the counter.
“Sonny Boo.” “You know the last stamp I bought was ten cents.”
Marcus opened his mouth.
“And it worked out just fine,” Carla added, adverting closing his mouth for him.
She unzipped her pocketbook.
She pushed past Tic-Tacs, a folded church program from March, two ink pens without caps, some peppermints balls a sandwich bag of rubber bands, and what appeared to be a casino playing card before pulling out a small, fragile crumpled up change purse from the 50’s.
She counted out her change deliberately.
“Okay. Quarter.” Clink. “Another quarter.” Clink. “Another quarter.” Clink. “Two dimes.” Clink clink.
“And hold on Sonny boo—”
Then she dug around in her purse.
“—there you go, darling.”
Marcus stared at the little silver disc on the counter.
It was perfectly round. Very shiny.
About the size of a nickel.
It was not a nickel.
“Ma’am…”
“That’s seventy-five. Give me my damn stamp boo boo We’re good.”
“Ma’am, this is—”
“I know what a damn five piece coin looks like, sweetie pie.
I’ve been handling money since before your mother was born.”
Marcus picked up the tiny silver disc and held it up.
“Ma’am, this is a wristwatch battery.”
Silence.
The flickering light stopped flickering.
Carla stared at the little disc.
“…Get the fuck outta here and get your manager.”
“Ma’am—”
“What don’t tell me about my damn language, I know, I know.”
She waved her hand towards the manager way.
“Yes ma’am”. I’m Jeremy your supervisor on duty. It was brought to my attention that you were trying to buy a postage stamp. As our cashier said 0.75 cents?
“Okay. Quarter.” Clink. “Another quarter.” Clink. “Another quarter.” Clink. “Two dimes.” Clink clink. “Nickel.” Clink.
“Ma’am that’s not a nickel.” “That’s a wristwatch battery.”
“No. And you the mana… supervisor I knew you couldn’t see with that mustard stain on your shirt.”
“That’s a Ralph Lauren Polo symbol ma’am.”
“F… see you almost got told off. I have been trying to spend a watch battery all day. I went to CVS, the Dollar Tree, the BP station — nobody wanted it.”
“Add the post office to that list.”
“Eat Me!”
She crossed her arms.
“Y’all are just rude.”
“It’s a watch battery, ma’am. Not legal tender.”
“It looks like a nickel.”
“It really doesn’t.”
“Well it acted like one in my damn purse for the time it’s been in there far as I’m concerned—”
“Yes ma’am but you are still short five cents.”
Carla stopped.
“What the f… Come again?”
“Two quarters, two dimes, one—”
Marcus gently slid the battery to the side.
“Yes ma’am —seventy cents. You are short a nickel. A real nickel.”
She squinted at him. Then at the coins. Then at the watch battery.
“You can’t count. Get your super out here Sonny.”
Marcus’s eye twitched. Just slightly. Just once.
“It’s Marcus. And that was the watch battery, ma’am.”
“…The little shiny thing?”
“Yes, ma’am the little shiny thing.”
She looked at it again. Picked it up. Turned it over in her fingers.
“Ohhh,” she said slowly, “…Yeah.”
She reached back into the pocketbook.
Another scavenger hunt.
A prophylactic rolled out.
She caught it without looking.
The flickering light started back flickering.
Somewhere in line behind Carla, a man with a package sighed so deeply it was almost too noticeable.
She found the nickel.
“There he is,” “Hiding under a makeup pad.”
Marcus quickly took the nickel.
Counted everything one more time.
Slid a single forever stamp across the counter.
Carla picked it up and examined it with tremendous suspicion.
“You sure this right one it’s looks smaller than I remember.”
“Have a great day, ma’am.”
“Hmm you pushing it.”
She dropped it in her pocketbook along with the watch battery apparently it’s her good luck charm now.
Then she patted the counter twice and said:
“You were a real D, Marcus.”
The few people that were in the post office burst out laughing.
She finally read his name tag.
She never looked at his name tag once during the entire transaction.
And then Carla turned, that church hat still had that fish net over her face, with her pocketbook swinging hitting everything the same way she came in.
Marcus stared at the counter for a long moment.
The fluorescent light went out.