The Dose

People are dropping like flies at work. I’ve never eaten more bad cake or been to more painfully awkward goodbye lunches in my life. And I can’t stop myself. As soon as the person says their final farewells and is halfway down the hall for that last ride down the elevators…. I’m already standing in their cube, arms akimbo, surveying the mess. I’m not looking to take anything. I’m a cube vulture of a different kind. I’m looking to clean. Everything must go. With dramatic sweeping arm movements counters are rendered bare, office supplies and debris dropping into a waste basket below. Kung-fu-like finger strikes leave bulletin boards denuded. *schwoop* A Clorox Disinfecting Sheet is released from its sterile chamber. The Cleaner is at work, and he is masterful. From a single Post-it Note I craft a perfect yellow origami swan and rest it gingerly in the curve of the office chair’s seat. My calling card.

Being thorough I open the cabinet drawer and I hear the unfortunate metallic slide — another case of office furniture used as a piggy bank. *sigh* I can’t throw money away. But it can’t stay here either. It just can’t.

I leave the office with my pants pockets literally bulging with coinage. “Hey Andy, happy to see me or is that Gina’s last day in your pocket?” I have to walk slowly to the subway to avoid injury. I can’t walk normal. I get into a groove and start to pick up some speed in my modified gait. I sing to myself softly, “You know it’s hard out here for a Giiimp. When he tryin’ to stop this money make him Liiiimp….”

A few subway stops later and I’m standing in front of a Coinstar machine. Brilliant concept here: Put money in, get some of it back. wtf?! But what can I say, I’m willing to sacrifice 8.9 cents on the dollar to avoid having to stand in line for an hour on Saturday morning with fifty men who look like my Uncle Saul.

It takes several handfuls to transfer all of the coins from my pocket and into the Coinstar tray. When all is said and done I’ve netted $15.81. I bring the receipt up to the cashier and collect my earnings. There’s one small problem. I still have 81 cents in change. Wasn’t the goal to get rid of all of my change? And I start to wonder….

What if you put the 81 cents back into Coinstar, took the receipt to the cashier and were left with 72 cents?
What if you put the 72 cents back into Coinstar, took the receipt to the cashier and were left with 63 cents?
What if you put the 63 cents back into Coinstar, took the receipt to the cashier and were left with 54 cents?
What if you put the 54 cents back into Coinstar, took the receipt to the cashier and were left with 45 cents?
What if you put the 45 cents back into Coinstar, took the receipt to the cashier and were left with 36 cents?
What if you put the 36 cents back into Coinstar, took the receipt to the cashier and were left with 27 cents?
What if you put the 27 cents back into Coinstar, took the receipt to the cashier and were left with 18 cents?
What if you put the 18 cents back into Coinstar, took the receipt to the cashier and were left with 11 cents?
What if you put the 11 cents back into Coinstar, took the receipt to the cashier and were left with 2 cents?

And what if you put those 2 cents back into Coinstar and learn that once you get below a certain amount Coinstar stops deducting a processing fee from your total? What if that sucks you, against your conscious will, into an infinite loop. Putting in 2 cents. Taking the receipt back to the cashier. Putting in 2 cents. Taking the receipt back to the cashier. Putting in 2 cents. Taking the receipt back to the cashier. What if this routine eventually prompts the store manager to ask you to please leave the premises? What if you were me?