by Pa Rock
Penny Pincher
When the alligator-in-drag who works as a teller in my local bank listened to my complaint last week about the bank's change-counter cheating me out of fifty-cents, she looked down her snout at me like I was the cheapest bastard on the planet. And maybe I am, but that fifty cents was important to me. I would undoubtedly have a need for it at some point in my future, and when the time came, I wanted to be ready.
That was big money, but I can also get pissy over a nickel.
Years ago I spent a week or so in Denver to attend my daughter's high school graduation. While I was there I decided to take a tour of the U.S. Mint - the place were many of our nation's coins are made. The tour guide was telling us about how coins enter and leave circulation, and he noted that men are big-time coin hoarders. They keep a box or a cup or some container by the bed and empty the change from their pockets into it every night at bedtime. Women, on the other hand, carry theirs in coin purses, like their mothers did, and hold up the check-out lines at cash registers as they painfully count out every penny,
And being a guy, I am also a hoarder. I separate my change into two jars. One jar is for coins that are thirty-years-old or older. Those I save so that my grandchildren will have something to split up and feel rich about when I am gone. Newer coins go in the other jar, and those periodically go into a savings account at the bank where I am pursuing the dream of eventually getting a newer car. (The car I drive is only fifteen-years-old, so I am in no rush.) So far I have enough set aside in that account to pay the sales tax on a fairly new jalopy! But, the balance is fifty-cents short of where it should be.
I keep a quarter in my car, and it is a very important quarter. I never carry change in my pockets - it is all at home in those two jars - so I use the quarter in the car to get a cart whenever I grocery shop at Aldi's. A quarter will secure a cart, and when the cart is returned, the customer gets his quarter back. I carefully put mine in the same dashboard compartment so that I will have it the next time I shop at Aldi's. That is an important routine in my life.
I also park in the far corner of the Aldi's parking lot so that I get maximum steps on my pedometer while walking to and from the cart-return and to and through the store.
A few weeks ago a skinny lady with a white ponytail rushed up to me after I had emptied my shopping cart into the car and was heading across the lot to return it. "Please," she beckoned, "May I have your cart?" I was going to cost me some steps, but I pushed it toward her with a smile on my face. When she took the cart she handed me two dimes and.said "This is all I have. I hope you don't mind." I did mind, but I smiled and gave her the grocery cart anyway. "God bless you," she chirped as she pushed her cart toward the store.
Her two dimes meant that I was going to have to remember to get a quarter out of the jar when I got home and put it in the car - a very inconvenient process.
A couple of weeks later it happened again - Same woman, two dimes, and a hearty high-ho "God bless you!" as she trotted off. But I played along and pretended that I was glad to help her out.
And then this week we had round three of our little dance. The same woman chased me down for my empty cart, gave me two dimes along with her standard apology, God-blessed me, and hurried off. Now the bitch was into me for fifteen cents! This time I was starting to simmer, and instead of getting into the car and driving off, I stood in the parking lot and watched the dime-slinging cart-snatcher. Rather than going into the store, however, she walked across the lot to the cart return area. When she got there she turned and saw me watching - and then hurried toward the front door of the store withmy her cart.
I can sense that she is conducting a scam, but that seems like an awfully lot of effort to go through just to net a nickel!
Some rich folks who enjoy showing their disdain for quarters choose just to leave their carts in the parking lot - though never when I happen to show up without a quarter! There is a Subway sandwich shop next door, and I have always thought that if someone was clever - and hungry - he could spend the morning returning those carts and then take his pocketful of quarters to Subway for a nice lunch.
But the ponytail hustling for nickels - that has me puzzled.
I have now named her "Jennie Two-Dimes," and I suspect that I may make an issue of her God-blessed effrontery the next time she comes running for my cart. Any SOB who can challenge an alligator for fifty cents at the bank ought to be able to make a sweet little lady cry over a nickel in a parking lot!
Look for me in the police reports under "public nuisance!"
Penny Pincher
When the alligator-in-drag who works as a teller in my local bank listened to my complaint last week about the bank's change-counter cheating me out of fifty-cents, she looked down her snout at me like I was the cheapest bastard on the planet. And maybe I am, but that fifty cents was important to me. I would undoubtedly have a need for it at some point in my future, and when the time came, I wanted to be ready.
That was big money, but I can also get pissy over a nickel.
Years ago I spent a week or so in Denver to attend my daughter's high school graduation. While I was there I decided to take a tour of the U.S. Mint - the place were many of our nation's coins are made. The tour guide was telling us about how coins enter and leave circulation, and he noted that men are big-time coin hoarders. They keep a box or a cup or some container by the bed and empty the change from their pockets into it every night at bedtime. Women, on the other hand, carry theirs in coin purses, like their mothers did, and hold up the check-out lines at cash registers as they painfully count out every penny,
And being a guy, I am also a hoarder. I separate my change into two jars. One jar is for coins that are thirty-years-old or older. Those I save so that my grandchildren will have something to split up and feel rich about when I am gone. Newer coins go in the other jar, and those periodically go into a savings account at the bank where I am pursuing the dream of eventually getting a newer car. (The car I drive is only fifteen-years-old, so I am in no rush.) So far I have enough set aside in that account to pay the sales tax on a fairly new jalopy! But, the balance is fifty-cents short of where it should be.
I keep a quarter in my car, and it is a very important quarter. I never carry change in my pockets - it is all at home in those two jars - so I use the quarter in the car to get a cart whenever I grocery shop at Aldi's. A quarter will secure a cart, and when the cart is returned, the customer gets his quarter back. I carefully put mine in the same dashboard compartment so that I will have it the next time I shop at Aldi's. That is an important routine in my life.
I also park in the far corner of the Aldi's parking lot so that I get maximum steps on my pedometer while walking to and from the cart-return and to and through the store.
A few weeks ago a skinny lady with a white ponytail rushed up to me after I had emptied my shopping cart into the car and was heading across the lot to return it. "Please," she beckoned, "May I have your cart?" I was going to cost me some steps, but I pushed it toward her with a smile on my face. When she took the cart she handed me two dimes and.said "This is all I have. I hope you don't mind." I did mind, but I smiled and gave her the grocery cart anyway. "God bless you," she chirped as she pushed her cart toward the store.
Her two dimes meant that I was going to have to remember to get a quarter out of the jar when I got home and put it in the car - a very inconvenient process.
A couple of weeks later it happened again - Same woman, two dimes, and a hearty high-ho "God bless you!" as she trotted off. But I played along and pretended that I was glad to help her out.
And then this week we had round three of our little dance. The same woman chased me down for my empty cart, gave me two dimes along with her standard apology, God-blessed me, and hurried off. Now the bitch was into me for fifteen cents! This time I was starting to simmer, and instead of getting into the car and driving off, I stood in the parking lot and watched the dime-slinging cart-snatcher. Rather than going into the store, however, she walked across the lot to the cart return area. When she got there she turned and saw me watching - and then hurried toward the front door of the store with
I can sense that she is conducting a scam, but that seems like an awfully lot of effort to go through just to net a nickel!
Some rich folks who enjoy showing their disdain for quarters choose just to leave their carts in the parking lot - though never when I happen to show up without a quarter! There is a Subway sandwich shop next door, and I have always thought that if someone was clever - and hungry - he could spend the morning returning those carts and then take his pocketful of quarters to Subway for a nice lunch.
But the ponytail hustling for nickels - that has me puzzled.
I have now named her "Jennie Two-Dimes," and I suspect that I may make an issue of her God-blessed effrontery the next time she comes running for my cart. Any SOB who can challenge an alligator for fifty cents at the bank ought to be able to make a sweet little lady cry over a nickel in a parking lot!
Look for me in the police reports under "public nuisance!"
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