‘Twonie Trauma…’

By The Menzoid.

Being both a connoisseur of fast-food and an altruist, a big part of The Menzoid’s charitable gift-giving comes via those little clear glass boxes found on quick-service restaurant countertops that solicit the loose change of patrons.

Works for The Menzoid: these solicitation boxes are convenient; there’s no hard-sell involved; and since The Menzoid just can’t bear the thought of toting around those near-worthless coins, pennies automatically go into these boxes. As does, on occasion, the odd nickel or dime. Hey, if The Menzoid is feeling especially generous, a quarter might be dispensed. And come Christmastime, maybe even two quarters will be plopped into the change boxes found at various eateries located throughout Thornhill, Rich Man’s Hill and the Tri-Hill Area.

No need to congratulate The Menzoid for his acts of generosity, folks. After all, to quote any striking or work-to-rule teacher, “It’s all about the kids!”

Alas, the other day, The Menzoid discovered – yet again – it just doesn’t pay to be Mr. Nice Guy.

For just as he was making small talk with the Timwit on the other side of the Tm Hortons counter, The Menzoid found himself momentarily distracted. Thus in addition to dispensing four pennies, one nickel and one dime into the box, The Menzoid mistakenly put a Twonie in as well.


Right away, The Menzoid pointed out the error of his coin-dispensing ways, noting he didn’t mean to donate an entire Twonie. The Timwit shrugged and said, “Thanks anyway, sir.”

Um, “Thanks anyway”?

Look, 90 percent of the coins in that Tim’s box were pennies. The remaining 10 percent were nickels and dimes. And then, radiating like the sun itself, was a super-sized gold- and silver-hued coin with a polar bear on it. That would be MY super-sized gold- and silver-hued coin with a polar bear on it.

And as the old Sesame Street ditty used to go: “One of these things is not like the others.”

In any event, I asked the employee to open the box so that The Menzoid could retrieve the coin – a coin that happened to be 200 times greater than the de rigueur donation. Look, The Menzoid wants the kids to go to camp as much as the next guy. But The Menzoid isn’t exactly Donald Trump.

The Timwit told The Menzoid that the boxes are locked, and of course, he didn’t have the key.

Plan B: The Menzoid offered to barter, telling the Timwit to give him a couple of donuts or a small box of TimBits and we could call it even.

Naturally, this was too logical for him to comprehend as he began quoting some policy regarding donut supply management systems yadda-yadda-yadda.

Well, it was getting embarrassing by this point. The line was growing and a couple of people were already rattling their keys and doing the fake cough routine.

That’s when The Menzoid told the employee that after The Menzoid consumed his coffee, perhaps The Menzoid could have a free refill. That, too, was against “policy”, leaving The Menzoid pondering when exactly Tim Hortons became part of some federal government bureaucracy.

Indeed, the conversation ended with The Menzoid being told to contact head office to file a complaint and maybe HQ could help him out somehow.

By the way, did you know Tim Hortons employees are supposed to follow the S.E.T. system of customer service? S.E.T. is an acronym for Smile, Eye-contact, and Thank You. Well, at this point, let the record show that The Menzoid wasn’t getting any S.E.T. service from this Timmies employee.

Still, The Menzoid figured there was no sense making a federal case out of two bucks. But he at least wanted some acknowledgement for his charitable gift-giving. So out came The Menzoid’s ever-handy packet of Post-It Notes, 3M’s gift to the world. And The Menzoid wrote the following on a bright amber Post-It Note: “In case anyone is wondering, the Twonie in this box was deposited by The Menzoid. You’re welcome.” The Post-It Note was then prominently stuck on the box.

The Menzoid was soon standing outside the restaurant, coffee in hand, ready to gauge the reaction of other customers reading the note. But before anyone got a chance to do so, the TimWit abruptly removed The Menzoid’s Post-It Note. You guessed it folks: policy.

The Menzoid then devised a counter-attack: he re-entered the restaurant and popped another note right INTO the box, bearing the identical message.

When he returned to the Timmies the next day, that note had been completely covered by coins.

Not a single one was a Twonie.

You’re welcome.


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