Today's moment of charm: While out running errands, I was struck with a desire for a Filet o' Fish sandwich and a Dr. Pepper from the dodgy McDonald's on 9th Street. I went in and placed my order, and while I was waiting I spotted a scrawny and very sketchy-looking guy hovering near the pickup counter. This McDonald's is known locally for attracting assorted beggars and junkies and this dude had junkie written all over him, but he was one of the many that hang around in there on a daily basis, so the staff has learned to ignore the obvious.
Anyway, as I was getting my Dr. Pepper at the self-serve soda array, the clerk announced the number for my order. Before I could get it, the sketchy guy nonchalantly sauntered over to the counter without showing a numbered receipt and picked up my sandwich, then beat a hasty exit. At first I was not certain that he had just jacked my sandwich, so I stood at the counter with my numbered receipt and smiled at the clerk while I waited to be handed my order. She stood there and stared at me for a few moments, as though she were waiting for me to say something, and then she asked if I needed assistance. I told her my number had been called, and when I said that her eyes went wide as she did the math in her head. She ran over to her manager, leaned in close and explained what had just occurred, and both she and the manager let out a weary "Oy..." as this sort of thing probably happens at least once per day. They apologized up and down while I waited for the servers in the back to prepare me a replacement, but I was not in the least perturbed. If anything, I found it all amusing.