Thing 322 Pay With Pennies

Morning after a night out, you wake up a little groggy, it's to be expected. You check your phone to make sure you didn't text your mates to tell them how much you love them. You either heave a sigh of relief or hang your head in shame. Next you check your wallet/handbag to see what the financial toll is. Almost inevitably you cringe when you see how little you have left, and try to repress the memory of going back to the ATM for money for a kebab and taco fries. Then you realise it's not as bad as you thought. The reason? You've got thirty six euro and seventy eight cent in change in your arse pocket.

You scratch your head. Try not to worry about it and you send Pony Boy out for chicken rolls and cans of coke.

I hate the shrapnel. I feel like it's some kind of spiteful trick being played on me. I always spend change faster than notes, mostly because I rarely take the time to count out what it's worth, I just shell out. This proves costly.

Combine this with my coppers-habit. I NEVER carry coppers on me. Whenever I find them, wherever I find them, I dump them into a small wicker basket on the fireplace. I've been doing this for a year now. I'm not saving for ought in particular, just to put the coppers somewhere...

I decided where I want to put them...
The Thorny Wire is most unimpressed. Darty Darts is having a chuckle about it. He does that a lot, it's his good nature.

So I packed up every one of the coppers I've been stashing for the last year and decided to get my revenge. I decided to pay for all my drinks with shrapnel. No money withdrawn from the ATM. Nothing in paper form in my wallet. Just coppers and nothing else. I'm the young male version of that old lady you don't want to be stuck behind in the queue in the supermarket.

This is my way of paying shrapnel back. However this genius idea comes with its own drawbacks. I've to count the money out. Fishing from a little briefcase stuffed full of money that's generally regarded as worthless. At three euro a pint, one for me and one for The Frenchman comes to an irritating six euro. That's one hundred and twenty five cent coins. Three hundred two cent coins. You can do the math on the pennies yourself there.

This is problematic for two reasons. One: I lack patience. I mean I've almost none. Two: Time spend counting is banter-time wasted. After the initial irritation of having to accept my crap cash, I think Thorny Wire started to enjoy laughing at my rapid fire attempt at counting.
Does that look like a happy face to you? Thought not.

Personally I think I'd do better if I just learned a lesson and started spending the money the night before instead of waking up with all the crap shrapnel the next day. It would make a bit more sense right? When have I ever made sense...?