whatever this is supposed to be . . .

Exact change is one of the fairer genders annoying peculiarities. And every fairer-gendered person at the place of my employment seems to prefer providing precise pecuniary portions. Digging through purses feverishily as I patiently pine, preparing to consume my delicious stir-fry. Do you not have a piggy bank fair princess? What horrible fate awaits you should your purse reach critical copper mass? Isn't the toll of achieving perfection, even the mundane perfection of exact change, too much to defray? Isn't it simpler - and more importantly quicker - to accept a nickel and store it away?

Often I wonder, this and more; as I wait, tapping my foot, in many a store. Thinking of life and other worldy events, while madam in front of me, fishes out 68 cents.