Posted on March 30, 2004 in Encounters Possessions
The plumber showed up punctually, took out his finger-thin flashlight, and looked into the garbage disposal to see what had been jamming it up. “It’s a penny,” he announced in his quiet English voice.
“A penny?”
“Yep. Last three places I been to were pennies.”
He went back to his truck, came back with a screwdriver and a pair of long-handled, needle-nosed pliers. He used them interchangeably, using the screwdriver to loosen the coin and the needle-nose pliers to fish it out. When he finished, he dropped it on the counter. “There’s your penny.”
“This happens often?”
“Yep, it’s always a penny. Or a beer bottle cap.”
I wrote out a check, cleared the counter of all loose coinage, and thanked him for his time as Boadicea and Fiona sat on the floor, watching us as if the business transaction over the kitchen sink would net them a morsel. What a rate of return for the plumber! One cent that wasn’t even his own money invested and he realized $45 for less than five minutes of work.
I laid the penny on my desk so I could take a picture of it. The blade of the garbage disposal cut deep: the zinc muscle beneath the copper skin showed. The disc oozed droplets of metal dust.