Not Quite Sure What to Do About the Quarters
… since I still haven’t managed to find the cleanest, shiniest one from each state and put them all in their little book.
There’s a problem with the generics, too. After all, quarters are worth a lot more than 25 cents. They’re the only coins that laundry machines and parking meters accept. Of course, this kind of thinking is a holdover from a former life, when the hoarding of quarters gave rise to an involved strategy to increase their intake during all financial transactions.
Example: a man walks into a café and buys a skim latte, which costs $13.78. He has only twenty-dollar bills and a pocketful of change. How much does he give the barista? The answer is $20.03, which allows him to acquire a quarter he otherwise would have passed up.
After this many years in New York, I have come to terms with paying the nice ladies to wash and fold for me. Also, after this much time spent mastering the fine points of parking for free on the street, paying for a meter seems akin to soliciting a prostitute. (Don’t think too far through the contradictions inherent therein. It’s just plain unflattering.)
Maybe I’ll keep the quarters for myself. For now, anyway.
There’s a problem with the generics, too. After all, quarters are worth a lot more than 25 cents. They’re the only coins that laundry machines and parking meters accept. Of course, this kind of thinking is a holdover from a former life, when the hoarding of quarters gave rise to an involved strategy to increase their intake during all financial transactions.
Example: a man walks into a café and buys a skim latte, which costs $13.78. He has only twenty-dollar bills and a pocketful of change. How much does he give the barista? The answer is $20.03, which allows him to acquire a quarter he otherwise would have passed up.
After this many years in New York, I have come to terms with paying the nice ladies to wash and fold for me. Also, after this much time spent mastering the fine points of parking for free on the street, paying for a meter seems akin to soliciting a prostitute. (Don’t think too far through the contradictions inherent therein. It’s just plain unflattering.)
Maybe I’ll keep the quarters for myself. For now, anyway.

