Surely by now you’ve encountered a cashier who can’t make change? You know how it goes. Your bill is $17.55 and you hand over a twenty and a nickel and the cashier tries to give you back the nickel. You say you’d rather have two quarters and the cashier looks at you like you’re an idiot. When you suggest typing the amount tendered as $20.05, the cashier does this, “Ooookay” sorta thing and gives you $2.50 — and if the cashier is young enough, he may chortle out a “Haha!” as though you have performed magic.
Don’t even think about giving them coins once the machine says they need to give you change. They will freak out. What’re you, some kinda quick change artist?!? They’ll turn on their red blinking light! Alert! Alert!
People can’t make change anymore. They can only do what the machine tells them.
I have been told there are many young adults who cannot count change at all. They tender paper money and trust they will be given correct change. They take their change to Coinstar and pay a machine to exchange it for something they find more useful.
Maybe this will be fine later. Like when those of us who can make change die off and there’s no one forcing them to cope with those perplexing shiny discs.
Since they can’t make change, they can’t count back change, either. No one counts back money anymore. “And seventy-five makes eighteen, nineteen, twenty.” If you don’t know what I’m talking about, why are you reading my blog? I can’t even with you.
I once worked at a bank. By the time I worked at the bank, I had six years of retail and cash handling experience. No one had to tell me to face the money all the same way. Honestly, I believe a parent taught me that before I ever started working. I think it was part of the Show Respect to Your Belongings Lecture Series.
Everywhere I ever worked kept the status quo of right-facing money.
Now? They may as well wad it up and throw it at me.
Apparently the new bill counters don’t need the money to be properly faced. But I do.
Many years ago, my husband and I were running a Girl Scout Cookie booth with our girls. Along came a lady customer, and it was then, only then, with over a decade of marriage behind us, I realized The Mister couldn’t count back money. So I said, “No, not like that, like this,” and started to show him. I mean, I’d taught all the girls…
Well that lady, that lady, ARGH! She said, “Huh uh, don’t do that. No. He’s a man.” She started QUOTING FUCKING SCRIPTURE (First Timothy) at me about a woman not having authority over a man.
I almost blacked-out with rage.
This is the kinda shit that happens to your heathen ass when you live in Georgia. While you stand seven inches from the sun.
I whatted the fuck outta that woman, while my husband stepped in front of me and tried to make nice and quick so the lady wouldn’t realize I was yelling “WHAT!!? WHAT DID YOU SAY TO ME?!? WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?!” I didn’t care that she was my elder, I was ready to beat the Jesus outta her.
Maybe my husband likes it when I
tie his naked ass to a tree and teach him how to count back money, you don’t know!
Change is hard.
Tolerance is harder.
Do you still properly face your money?