“Can I give you a tip?”

Calvin had been fumbling behind the cash register, banging the stack of quarters against the thin metal door, and he had not even realized that the elderly man was still there. The question of whether he had forgotten to give the man back his change flitted through his mind for the briefest moment. No, I definitely gave him his change. The panic subsided.

He looked up at the man, who had to be at least seventy years old. He had veins that showed on his bald head, and the smallest amount of scraggly white hairs still clinging to his skull. His hands were tucked tightly into his faded blue jacket, which aligned perfectly with the faded “Turner Sport Fishing” shirt that poked through from underneath. He didn’t look like a sport’s fisherman, thought Calvin. But then again, it looked like sports in general may have passed him by, and as far as sports went, fishing seemed manageable.

“Sure” said Calvin, a little taken aback by the question. He wasn’t working with Michelle, his twenty-two-year-old incredibly attractive co-worker, so his tip jar remained low, even for 6 o’clock at a non-franchised coffee house. He took a quick glance at the chipped cup next to the cash register, the scribbled sign that just read “Tip?” nearly falling off it completely.

“Try to get up before eight o’clock every morning. Even on your days-off! By the time you’re 28 you’ll have such a leg up on the rest of your peers. It’ll gain you so much productive hours.”

Calvin, stared at him, not sure whether to laugh or to be offended. Was he making a joke? He was smiling, but in more of a pleasant way, not an ‘I just made a joke’ way. He chose to give the old man a belated laugh, just in case.

“I think that’s more of advice,” said Calvin, “but thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.”

The old man smiled, “Perhaps you need to make a separate cup for advice than. Tip cup looks a little full.”

And with this comment, which, if said by anyone under the age of sixty, Calvin was sure he would’ve taken offense to, the old man began to head for the exit. A girl in a green raincoat was about to get in line anyways.

Calvin took her order, and began to prepare her pumpkin spice machiatto, but he still kept thinking about the odd encounter.

Tomorrow was his day off, and he should have been occupied with what trouble his friends would be getting themselves into for the night, but for some reason he couldn’t stop thinking about how early the gym opened.