Living with a Scrooge McDuck complex

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When I was little, I had a toy cash register that cha-chinged when a “purchase” of play food was made. I had some small paper money and plastic coins to practice making change, which I dutifully counted into the till.

Man, I loved that thing – so much so, that it eventually wore out and fell apart. Since I couldn’t play with that anymore, I craved handling real money, and began counting any bills and change whenever anyone would let me.

I even got to make the change at a tender age, during a promotion at Dad’s work. I helped Mom make a scabillion chopped ham sandwiches (it was an area thing), which were free at the open house.

However, there were gardening or work gloves for sale in the promotion area we were assigned to, and you guessed it, I was money-counter/change-giver.

I still remember this one older lady who came in and bought a pair of gloves. Mom let me handle the transaction, while the lady looked down her nose at me, sniffed and asked how old I was. I proudly told her I was seven.

She turned to Mom and said, “You’re letting a SEVEN YEAR OLD take the money?!” Mom lifted her chin, gave her one of her “wanna make somethin’ out of it looks,” and said, “She knows exactly what she’s doing.”

The lady still looked unconvinced and pressed her lips together as she handed me the money. I quickly made change AND counted it back to her.

I’ll never forget it, she looked I’d dropped a horse collar on her and she actually smiled once she recovered. She thanked me for being so polite, giving her the correct change and proving her wrong.

She said she wished everyone could figure out money the way I could.

As I’ve grown older, I agree with her completely. Not only do so many not know how to count money, make change or count it back, but it makes me so crazy when people hand me money, turned every which way. The bills need to all be turned to face the same way and be handed face up.

Really, how do people live their life with their money so disorganized?

Another pet peeve of mine, is when someone is breathing down my neck at a store, tapping their foot and sighing, while I’m trying to put my change in it’s proper place. Bills go in one spot, coins in another.

What am I supposed to do, just throw the cash in all willynilly? I think not, people, there has to be some order or there will be anarchy.

When I hear talk of turning into a cashless society, it makes me sad. I love old coins and yes, I love the shiny new ones, too. So much has already been lost, must we abandon good old-fashioned money, too? It makes me fear for our future.

But, until that time (possibly) comes, I will continue to revel in the feel, look and smell of cold, hard cash. Some might say I have a Scrooge McDuck complex ( Ducktales), as the miserly billionaire likes to swim through his money.

I could do worse, although I can’t swim, so I may need to rethink that idea if I ever have millions at my disposal for a dip in the currency.

Meanwhile, I will continue to pay with my, in comparison, meager amounts, wishing people would just let me get the money back in my wallet, before they push me out of the lane.

Each time I count my cash or try to put it hastily away, I’m reminded of a customer who came in the office a little while ago. We were talking about the proper way to handle the bills and he agreed with me. He imparted something his father used to tell him that I’d like to share here.

If you can’t handle money, you shouldn’t have any.