My Money Troubles
Thursday, April 1, 2010 Our four-year-old son attends preschool three afternoons a week for a couple of hours. We live just far enough away from the school that it doesn't make sense for me to return home. I went through this with our two older sons when they were preschool age. In the past, I've used the time to run errands, go for a jog near the school, meet Chris for lunch, and purchase [then return] stuff we don't need. It's amazing how many things you think you can't live without at Target, Home Depot or Costco when you're killing time three afternoons a week...for a year.
My current goal while the 4YO is at school is to accomplish real, productive, must-be-done [not buying-stuff-we-don't-need] errands, or find free Wi-Fi so I can dork around on the internet. For one dollar per visit, I can use the public library's Wi-Fi, not have to purchase an expensive cup of coffee or too-large muffin, and "work" in a quiet environment. I've enjoyed my afternoons at the library and consider my time there a display of sincere effort to adhere to one of my 2010 resolutions—living more frugally.
I arrived at the library one afternoon last week, and I handed the young, persnickety, male librarian-in-training a one-dollar bill. Not just any one-dollar bill, but a crisp, clean, wrinkle-free, good bill.
Self-Disclosure: When I have good money in my wallet, I hate to spend it. I can't get rid of bad money fast enough. Handing a cashier a good $20 bill, then receiving crumpled, bad bills as change makes me feel like I've lost a bet. When I receive good bills as change, I win...obviously.
I hated handing over that perfect dollar. I ensured no other perfect bills were clinging to it, as is a common occurrence with good money. The librarian-in-training handed me my temporary Wi-Fi card and I headed to the Quiet Area.
As I approached the information desk located in front of the Quiet Area, I saw an 8 1/2" x 11" piece of white paper taped to the front of the desk with the words, "NO WIFI TODAY".
Grrr.
I made eye contact with the older, heavy-set woman sitting behind the desk. She shrugged her shoulders and mouthed, "Sorry." I softened my expression and mouthed, "Oh well..."
I returned to the librarian-in-training and told him that the Wi-Fi was unavailable today, and asked if I could please have my dollar back. He apologized and thanked me for letting him know. I handed him the temporary library card and he handed me...a soft, faded, over-used, dirty one-dollar bill. It was not my dollar.
It had been less than 60 seconds since our initial exchange. It was a straight shot from the information desk to the library entrance. No one had entered or exited after me. I would have noticed with my peripheral vision, or the eyes in the back of my head My dollar should have been the first dollar on the small pile of dollars in the drawer.
The young, persnickety, male librarian-in-training looked at me, and in an instant, I knew that he knew that I knew that he purposely gave me the bad dollar.
I have been known to request a different piece of money from a cashier if I'm handed a particularly ratty bill. Some cashiers are noticeably annoyed, but occasionally, a more mature [or equally neurotic] person sympathetically apologizes and honors my request.
On this day, I was looking into the eyes of an equally neurotic, yet competitive [likely bored] individual. Without uttering words, we had a conversation with our eyes. He began...
"I know you want the good dollar back, but I'm going to make you ask for it so you'll feel awkward and petty as you out yourself as a neurotic person."
"I won't give you the satisfaction, because I know that you prefer having my dollar in your cash drawer to satisfy your own neurosis. You like good dollars, too. I'm tougher, more flexible, less neurotic than YOU."
"Ha! I win! You lose! Now you'll have to thank me, walk out of the library, bathe your hands in the giant container of Purell, that I'm certain you have in your car, then you'll drive to the nearest Starbucks so you can unload that bad dollar in the tip jar. Ha!"
"You may have gotten the good dollar this time, you weird, little, librarian-in-training person, but I'll be back. And next time...I'll have a bad dollar. A reeeally bad dollar."
I gave the librarian-in-training a pursed-lip smile as I tried to smooth the flimsy hard-lived dollar into the type of bill that stays where it's supposed to when placed in a G-string, willing the bad dollar to behave like it had been starched. Didn't work.
I shoved the dollar in my wallet...then I drove straight to Starbucks.
Reader Comments (40)
I'm a woman who doesn't even have her bills in order in her wallet. Needless to say, I never notice how crisp they are.
I think I'm just as much of a little sh*t in this scenario, Connie, but I LOVE your support!
I'm with you, Pam. I read today that 45% of one-dollar bills have been in a stripper's G-string. Neato.
I love finding others who are aware of and comfortable with their neurosis. Ahhh. :)
I've thought that about your husband from other exchanges we've had. ;) I'm sure you're not surprised when I tell you my bills are in order, in every possible way. I'm a little surprised that you're not a crisp-bill-appreciator, but I still dig you in a mighty big way!
But I wouldn't of hesitated to tell the boy, Hey Kid, give me my dollar back. I would have just waved the dollar about, cocked my left eyebrow, and handed him the dollar.
When neurosis meet. Mine will always win!
Poor waitresses. I contribute to their excess bad money, too. You're tough! :)
I know. My fear of germs on money was taken to a new level when I read that stat. Awful.
Thank you, Jessica. I think we'd have a few fellow-neurotics come out of the closet if we started a special club. I love you too, man!
As with Pam, eeeew on that stat.
And as with Jessica, I feel the need to tell you I love you too.
But wait?? Can there BE such a thing as a too-large muffin? Since I don't always eat my stumps, I could do with a Really Big muffin.
So... your wallet, is it the kind that does not fold, so you can keep the good money evern gooder??
I recall times like these fighting tooth and nail and having little eye exchanges for the good NEW textbooks at school. Relate? :)
xoxo
A freaking prize winner. Oh, my sides hurt.
Thank you for saying it for me. I felt the exact same way. :-)
Best,Chris
Thank you, Alix. Can I just say... I LOVE your hair lately! XO, Chris
My neurosis about toilet paper is when the roll is on the spool incorrectly. Paper always OVER the top.
You got me, Jannie! The myth of the too-large muffin... busted. My wallet folds, but it doesn't crease the bills. It's just right. And I can completely relate to your textbook issue. We should create a handbook of non-verbal communication with eyes and facial expressions. Seriously... xoxoxo
DiThe Blue Ridge Gal
I love you Laura, wherever you are!
xoxo
P.S. Target's summer stuff is all out!! Get what you don't really need NOW!!
Signed,
Perfectly happily married, hetero, with neuroses to pot luck food (god, I'm gaggin myself at the mere thought), door knobs, currency, and pens at doctors' offices.
P.S. Promise me you'll go back to the library and hand that little snot faced LIT with the entitlement attutude the nastiest soiled bill you can find. Promise. PROMISE! Say it! SAY IT!