Bringing in the Sheaves

No, I shall not divulge which Virginia City saloon this happened in, but it does need saying that the young woman tending the bar that afternoon was a Millennial.

Ordering an Irish coffee with plans to wait out the snowstorm slamming Mt. Davidson and the Comstock, she handed me my change. One of the coins stood out.

“Look at that you, rarely see old Wheat pennies these days,” I said.

“A what penny?” she asked as I handed it to her.

“A Wheat Penny.”

Turning it over, examining the sheaves on its backside, she said, “I thought they were copper.”