Quote:
One summer during college, I moved back home to suburban Phoenix, which is the worst place, and worked at Subway for a few months. Other than literally zero customers (or coworkers) who knew how to correctly pronounce difficult words like "jalapeƱo," the job was pretty unremarkable.
One night, however, this middle aged guy comes in and asks for a soda. I tell him the total, and he just smiles and shrugs. I tell him that he needs money in order to buy things, and he says that he has none, but asks if I would trade with him. What did he want to trade for a 16 ounce cup of soda? A box of condoms. Coke is basically free, so there was really no reason for me to turn him down. He hands me the box, gets his soda and leaves. I go into the back and realize that it's open and there are only two left, so I give one to my coworker and keep the other as a souvenir (for the record, under no circumstances will I put that on my person).
The very next day, condom box guy comes back, and lo! He is wearing the most ornate pair of jeans that I've ever seen. Are they bedazzled? You know they are. This is during the lunch rush, which means there is a line to the door, and he walks right to the register, line be damned, and asks if I want to buy his pants. This wasn't even an "I'm desperate for money" kind of offer, he seemed legitimately interested in sharing his artwork/pants with me. To this day I regret A) not asking how much he wanted for them, and B) finding out what would have happened if I had bought his glorious jeans.