“Hey,” Artie said, “I bet you make big bucks, man.”
The attendant, Fred Young, sat in his wooden hutch feeling mildly annoyed.
“No,” I only make $1.47 an hour.”
“That’s what I mean by a lot,” Artie said.
“Are you kidding? I’m married and have a kid.”
“Will you lend me eighty-five cents? I want to play pinball.”
Fred reached for his club; he changed his mind—gave Artie the money—but the kid didn’t leave, and Fred heard the click.