I didn't know I was that much of an intellectual snob.

I'd talked briefly to him countless times before. He was mostly quiet, but would sometimes come up with something that seemed to originate out in left field. He works with his dad cutting people's grass and doing handyman and light construction jobs.

Last night, I went out for coffee.

Alone, I scooted into the booth and began mixing in the creamer and pink stuff.

He, also alone, was sitting at a table near me.

I guess he was in a mood to talk, because pretty soon he came over and sat down with me and started talking.

I don't know what brought it on, but he began extolling the virtues of capitalism and decrying the welfare class. He called them leeches.

I, of course, agreed. I had believed these things even long before being introduced to the writings of Ayn Rand. But I had long ago gotten tired of being looked at like an exotic species of bug whenever I mentioned her name or one of her works, so I didn't tell him about her.

So, after the conversation ranged from "progressive" taxation to religion to what money actually is ("If money is the root of all evil, why does the church want you to give them 10% of it?") and we found ourselves in agreement on all of it, I was surprised when he said, "Let me tell you about a book that you've gotta read."

I knew which one. I replied, "Atlas Shrugged?"

He said that was the one. He hadn't read any of her other books, but he got . . . really got Atlas Shrugged. And in some ways, was better than I was at explaining it.

See, I have this thing about making my points as concisely as possible. In most cases, that is a blessing, but occasionally it is a curse. It simply can't be done with Atlas Shrugged. The Fountainhead, yes ("No one has a right to veto your happiness, not even society" is one of TF's major points, for instance.). But Atlas Shrugged, no.

I explained TF to him, as well as Anthem and We The Living. He was excited most about TF and wished he could find a copy somewhere.

Then I told him about the upcoming Atlas Shrugged movie and that Pitt and Jolie were going to star in it. His eyes lit up like it was Christmas morning.

We spent the next hour casting the rest of the movie.

I wonder if he feels as bad about underestimating me with his assumptions as I do about doing the same to him.

Last night after getting home, I dug around in my closet for hours until I found it.

My trusty old copy of The Fountainhead.

This morning, I went back to the restaurant. He and his dad have breakfast or coffee there every morning.

But this morning, he didn't join his dad. I gave the dad the book and told him, "This is for Jared; tell him I need it back when he's done."