I know a business can’t assume I’m honest on the spot
But still I get my feelings hurt when they assume I’m not.
The twenty that I hand to clerk begins familiar rite:
She swipes it with a marker pen, then holds it up to light.
And satisfied I’m not a crook, she hands me now my change
But with the dollars given back, I opt for something strange:
whip out a marker pen — each bill must now submit —
Inspecting each with proper care, ensuring it’s legit.
The clerk’s surprise soon turns to gape, then scowl on second thought;
To think I’d question honesty of someone on the spot!