"Excuse me, miss," you begin, "do you have a quarter I could use to make a phone call?"
She doesn't answer, only offers a familiar dismissive gesture, waving you towards the tiny tray of change. There, hidden amidst the copper pennies, is a single bright quarter. Just as you're reaching for it, a hand snakes in and snatches it. A smug voice from beside you says, "Sorry, I need this to make a call."