Remembering when I was a teenager, and I had a paper route that I inherited from my brother when he started working a real job. I would always take a joint with me, and half way through the route I would slip into a clump of woods to smoke it.
My last stop of the day was at this old farmer's house, who everyone called Paw Paw. He kept ice cold bottles of Mt. Dew in his fridge, and he would tell me to get one and sit for a bit to visit.
We would talk for about 10 minutes, and then he always said, "There's a Hershey's bar and a dollar bill for you in the top drawer of the dresser. Why don't you grab 'em before you leave." I thanked him and on my way out the door, he would say, "Thanks for the nice visit, you're a good kid."