My total at the convenience store last night was $4.99; I gave the lady a $5 bill.
"You want your change?"
Well, yes, I want my change. And I don't much appreciate you making me look like the jackhole because I want my penny. I have no desire to balance your register, or whatever motivated you to ask me that in the first place. No, the penny doesn't mean that much to me, but it can't mean that much to you, either. It's a f'n penny. You know, the last person used a debit card to buy a sixer of Redd's Apple Ale and three styrofoam vats of Coke, and apparently, effect a hostile takeover of 3M using junk bonds in the process. The line now snakes through your store, and you're haggling over a penny. WTF is wrong with you, anyway?
(I thought, to myself)