I order my coffee and begin to mine my wallet for the elusive punch card. As a small line builds behind me, I shuffle through receipts, random bills, and coupons that I still hope to redeem even though they expired last November. A minute later, it surfaces. Just one more punch to go.
I get such satisfaction seeing those little circles adding up to a free, steaming beverage, knowing when that day comes, I can splurge on a flaky pastry to go with it. I hand the card to the barista, whose hip, horn-rimmed glasses can’t conceal the eye roll I know she wants to give me.
“Um, yeah, so we don’t accept those anymore.”
Read the rest via Pulled Punches — Kindred
MARISSA B. NIRANJAN is a hopeless nostalgic who wants the world to slow down a bit while she reminisces about Pogs, dELiA*s catalogs, the opening and closing door sounds on AOL Instant Messenger, and worries that kids these days are growing up without knowing the good, clean, fun of a game of M.A.S.H.
She’s a quarter Italian, only child, married to an Indian who happens to be an identical twin. When she’s not chasing after her tiny hooligans, she’s saving snow leopards at the world’s largest conservation organization dedicated to protecting the endangered cat. She is constantly editing emails to pare down her excessive use of exclamation points, and you can tell what type of mood she’ll be in based on how many times she’s had to warm up her morning coffee in the microwave. She loves her kids to the moon and back, but she really misses hot coffee.