It's Time for Change!Maybe it's my natural love of shiny things (especially if they have pictures of presidents on them), but I'm always excited when I get to pay with exact change. It makes me feel like I'm doing the cashier a big favor.
For those of you who have never bought something (or, in shopkeepers' terms, "made a purchase") the way it normally works is, you give the cashier money, he gives you some money back, and then you go. But when paying with exact change, I remove an ENTIRE STEP from the process! That's the kind of innovation that made Henry Ford a millionaire!
"$4.78, eh? Hold on, friend! Your tiny cashier brain won't have to do any math on THIS transaction! Here's three quarters and two pennies! Now you can go home early!"
I like to think that when he arrives home and greets his wife with a barely repressed grin, she'll asks him why he's in such a good mood. At which point, he'll shake his head bemusedly and say, "Funniest thing - this guy today at the store gave me exact change. That's why I was able to make it to Joey's little league game!" And then, at dinner, they'll raise their glasses to "the exact change guy" and wish there were more "good eggs" like me out there.
The thing is, when I do pay with exact change, the cashier never appreciates the favor I'm doing him. And, in reality, why should he be? He's a cashier - he makes change all day and he's probably really good at it. I'm not saving him any time - I'm actually screwing up his flow by taking 30 seconds to fish in my pockets for an elusive penny (that may or may not even be there). Sure, sometimes I find a stray Life Saver while I'm looking - but the cashier's never excited about that, either. It's like they're made of stone.
And, worst of all, my "benevolent" gesture is actually done for selfish reasons. I don't pay with exact change in order to make some cashier's life easier. I do it because I want to get rid of the half-pound of coins I'm carrying around (which is a shame, really, since that's pretty much the only exercise I get).
In the end, it's no better than the blood drives I do solely for the stickers and sugar cookies, or the babies I sell on the black market in order to "give them a better home."
Nope, I've been kidding myself. I'm not some benevolent do-gooder. I'm not a time-saving genius. I'm no genius at all. Because no self-respecting "genius" would be using his exact change to buy a Dr. Pepper and the latest issue of "Black Tail." (Geniuses prefer Sierra Mist and "Ass Parade")
