I hate change. The coin kind.
After a hard day at work buying coffee and massages, I'm left with pockets full of the stuff.
I cart it home and throw it into an old round can that used to belong to a gift bottle of booze. And there it sits until the can is full. And then it spills over into a little ceramic dish. And eventually I head to the grocery store and say hi to the Coinstar machine. I love this machine.
If you're not familiar, this is how it works. You feed your change in, machine counts it, takes 9 cents on the dollar for doing this, spits out a voucher you can redeem with the disinterested sort at customer service and off you jaunt, a merrier and richer soul.
While I'm feeding the machine and softly murmuring to it, people slow down and sometimes stop completely to gawk at the coin count displayed on the video screen. Sometimes they ask how it works. I tell them (as does the large sign on the machine).
Some scoff at the 9 cents per dollar it higway robs you of. Some say hey, thass not a bad deal.
At a lot of the banks here, they charge you anyway if you try and redeem more than 4 rolls of dirty money you've had to fight with and count yourself. The machine is a much nicer and cleaner mistress. I tell them this.
They watch the numbers roll me toward wealth a while longer and go off on their way.
Not me, I stay until the end because hey, it's my game, my voucher.
Today's take after the machine burped?
--I just checked out their website again and they've got inspirational stories of how the machine has basically saved lives. Oh man.