A few things are hard to come by in Argentina: coins (They’re the only way you can pay for the bus.); nice guys (Because apparently, “She never has to find out,” is winning logic.); and pens.
I’ve never seen anything like it. The first time a waiter gave me a receipt to sign, he hovered over me like a dog. I gave him the receipt, and he got all flustered. What the hell’s his problem? Then he starts pointing at the table. He just can’t leave the table without his pen. Waiters, I feel for you, but I guess that’s just proof that they don’t work for tips.
Then there was today, when I went to get an Argentine background check. “Suerte!” followed by the awkward pointing. Followed by, “No!” I had her pen, I had the goddamn pen.
Fine. I’ll buy my own.