Banks Kiss Off Coin Counting
Every family needs a coin jar.
It teaches myriad things, such as how the little things can add up. It shows the kids the importance of saving. It gives me a place to toss the day's change so I don't have a lumpy wallet or jingly pants pocket the next day.
It also has a potentially nice payoff down the line.
This morning, Curt, my oldest, who has grown curious about the change jar, came up and said, "I want some money." His interests spiked Saturday, when I gave him a penny, nickel, dime and quarter after he correctly identified them. He keeps the loot in a little toy cash register.
This morning, following his unwitting request for a handout, he went into deep thought, furrowed brows and all, as I subsequently explained how money, in general, is earned and its primary uses.
Lights. Home. Car. Toys. Food. Fun. Woo!
I could see his paradigm shift, from seeing money as fascinating shiny things to it being a way to get things he wants in life, which is Fruit Loops for the time being. Maybe his sparsely populated piggy bank will take on a whole new value to him, and maybe he's one step closer to pushing a lawnmower around the yard for his weekly allowance.
I started tossing change into a mason jar years ago. That jar would hold around $120 worth of coins, depending, of course, on the kinds of coins as well as my ability to resist the urge to vulture quarters from time to time.
I've progressively graduated to bigger jars and for the past few years have used this large piece of Polish pottery, something almost as valuable as the volume of the coins it can contain.
I don't remember the last time I cashed in my coins. It's been at least two or three years. After Saturday's garage sale, I finally finally topped off the jar, with fistfuls of mostly quarters, dimes and nickels.
There were a couple of pennies, and it made me wonder how they got there, what with all the prices at the sale pretty much divisible by 5.
Anyway, now it's time to count all the coins. I suppose there is nostalgia and anticipation-building in rolling the coins, but I wanted a quick count. I've been waiting years for this moment and am ready for the total.
The last time I rolled, I gave up by the time I got a little ways into the pennies. I just couldn't go on anymore. I looked into those machines at the grocery store, but they essentially charge a loan shark's take on the proceedings. I'm not giving up 10 percent of the bounty just to save some time.
So yesterday, I toodled over to First Intergalactic Bank of The Something Or Other And Trust, or whatever its latest incarnation is, and inquired about coin-counting prospects.
Nope, they said. I'd have to do it myself.
Well *^%$%^$#@!!
I later asked my wife whether her bank counted coins.
Nope.
> : - (
So what's the deal with banks not wanting to count money? And how do they know I haven't shorted them a quarter here or a penny there? Does this mean they have a counter they won't use for customers?
When I lived in Killeen, where I worked before coming here, my bank gladly took my occasional sock full of coins and emptied it into the counter, which spit out a total in seconds. I took that for granted.
Now, I suppose I'm going to have to do it the hard way. I don't know if I'll do it all at once or just kind of dabble in it here or there. Curt will siphon a few coins, but he's going to have to work for it somehow. Too bad Fruit Loops aren't currency.
All I know is that this time, I'm rolling and depositing the pennies - thousands of 'em. With any luck, the bank's supersecret counting machine will be on the fritz, and some poor soul will have to hand-count them all.
Ten thousand four hundred and fifty-six.
Ten thousand four hundred and fifty-seven.
Ten thousand four hundred and fifty-eight.
Ten thousand four hundred and ... oh no ... where was I?
It teaches myriad things, such as how the little things can add up. It shows the kids the importance of saving. It gives me a place to toss the day's change so I don't have a lumpy wallet or jingly pants pocket the next day.
It also has a potentially nice payoff down the line.
This morning, Curt, my oldest, who has grown curious about the change jar, came up and said, "I want some money." His interests spiked Saturday, when I gave him a penny, nickel, dime and quarter after he correctly identified them. He keeps the loot in a little toy cash register.
This morning, following his unwitting request for a handout, he went into deep thought, furrowed brows and all, as I subsequently explained how money, in general, is earned and its primary uses.
Lights. Home. Car. Toys. Food. Fun. Woo!
I could see his paradigm shift, from seeing money as fascinating shiny things to it being a way to get things he wants in life, which is Fruit Loops for the time being. Maybe his sparsely populated piggy bank will take on a whole new value to him, and maybe he's one step closer to pushing a lawnmower around the yard for his weekly allowance.
I started tossing change into a mason jar years ago. That jar would hold around $120 worth of coins, depending, of course, on the kinds of coins as well as my ability to resist the urge to vulture quarters from time to time.
I've progressively graduated to bigger jars and for the past few years have used this large piece of Polish pottery, something almost as valuable as the volume of the coins it can contain.
I don't remember the last time I cashed in my coins. It's been at least two or three years. After Saturday's garage sale, I finally finally topped off the jar, with fistfuls of mostly quarters, dimes and nickels.
There were a couple of pennies, and it made me wonder how they got there, what with all the prices at the sale pretty much divisible by 5.
Anyway, now it's time to count all the coins. I suppose there is nostalgia and anticipation-building in rolling the coins, but I wanted a quick count. I've been waiting years for this moment and am ready for the total.
The last time I rolled, I gave up by the time I got a little ways into the pennies. I just couldn't go on anymore. I looked into those machines at the grocery store, but they essentially charge a loan shark's take on the proceedings. I'm not giving up 10 percent of the bounty just to save some time.
So yesterday, I toodled over to First Intergalactic Bank of The Something Or Other And Trust, or whatever its latest incarnation is, and inquired about coin-counting prospects.
Nope, they said. I'd have to do it myself.
Well *^%$%^$#@!!
I later asked my wife whether her bank counted coins.
Nope.
> : - (
So what's the deal with banks not wanting to count money? And how do they know I haven't shorted them a quarter here or a penny there? Does this mean they have a counter they won't use for customers?
When I lived in Killeen, where I worked before coming here, my bank gladly took my occasional sock full of coins and emptied it into the counter, which spit out a total in seconds. I took that for granted.
Now, I suppose I'm going to have to do it the hard way. I don't know if I'll do it all at once or just kind of dabble in it here or there. Curt will siphon a few coins, but he's going to have to work for it somehow. Too bad Fruit Loops aren't currency.
All I know is that this time, I'm rolling and depositing the pennies - thousands of 'em. With any luck, the bank's supersecret counting machine will be on the fritz, and some poor soul will have to hand-count them all.
Ten thousand four hundred and fifty-six.
Ten thousand four hundred and fifty-seven.
Ten thousand four hundred and fifty-eight.
Ten thousand four hundred and ... oh no ... where was I?
posted by Brian Pearson at 3:45 PM
2 Comments:
I bet you end up at the grocery store yet. :)
Nope!
I rolled those suckers over the weekend and put 'em in the bank Wednesday, all $200 of it!
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