Where Have You Been All My Life?

When I handed the sales clerk a ten, she lifted the bill towards the ceiling to scrutinize it. She wrinkled her nose as she twisted the paper in the light, and then she asked me if I had something else I could pay with, "This one looks dicey." The word "dicey" bounced within her Indian accent.

I also had a five, and that was accepted without complaint, but she gave me an accusatory look as she handed me my change. I glanced over my shoulder as I walked out of the store, and the customers in line behind me were also glaring at me - a dirty counterfeiter.

But I'm not a dirty counterfeiter, and I can prove it. Here's the ten I tried to spend.

Looks okay, but yeah, it does seem a little different. Then I spotted the date.

1969? That's the year I was born! No wonder the clerk was suspicious. This came out 21 years before the first security strip was woven into US currency. And if she wasn't living in the States in the 70's and 80's, that clerk probably hasn't seen this style of bill.

According to the Federal Reserve, the life span of a ten-dollar bill is 4.2 years. So where has Mr. Hamilton been hanging out for the last 44 years? And how did he get in my billfold?

I don't think he was in a numismatist's collection. Hamilton isn't in perfect condition; he's just really flat. I suspect he had a at least a few months in the wild. But where did Hamilton go then?

Was he:
Inside a birthday card lost behind the bedroom dresser?
A bookmark in an unfinished novel?
Under Grandma's mattress?
Kidnapped and held in solitary confinement in a hotel room for 15 years, and then released for five days to wreak revenge on his captors? (Opps, that's the plot to the first Oldboy film.)

I don't know. But I bet he's pretty happy to back in circulation, and that's why I'm not going to hang onto him. I'm tempted to keep a fellow 44-year-old around the house, it's the collector in me, but that wouldn't be fair. I can't put him right back into captivity.

So don't worry, buddy.

I'll set you free.

But where? Where should Mr. Hamilton start his next journey?

I have an idea.

Drum Roll, Please

Ladies and gentlemen, the change jar is now (mosty) empty.

My Powerjar Jackpot?

Not bad at all.

But what's with the junky dollar bill? That looks like the change I get from the lunch ladies at school. It's bad enough that I get cut off by a 15-year-old while I'm trying to get a "tri-tator", but then I have to take as change the wadded up dollar bill I just watched him pull out of his pocket as his dirty Kleenexes spilled onto the floor?

High school cafeterias: even their money is gross.

Hey Big Spender

Like you, I didn't win last week's Powerball prize, but that's okay. I'm guaranteed to win the "Powerjar Jackpot".

One of the first things I do when I get home is to empty my pockets and put whatever loose change I have my change jar. (No pennies, though. They take up too much valuable space.) It's a habit I've had since I was a teenager.

The container takes about five months to fill, and I get a kick out of seeing how much "free money" is in there when I take the change to the bank.  I know this isn't really free money, but since it doesn't show up in any of bank accounts, it feels free. Actually, it feels better than that. Since this money was painless to save, it feels guilt free when I spend it.

How much do you think I have in here?

I'm guessing there's about $100. By today's standards, that doesn't seem like much money. But I first learned about financial planning in high school. Back in the 80's, $100 could buy a lot of cool stuff. For some reason, $100 still seems like a big sum to me. It's my monetary mullet.

Sometimes I blow my winnings on an old book I normally wouldn't buy, but I'm pretty sure this particular jar is full of used VW Bug parts. I'm curious to see how many things I can get with a C note.

Time to go to the bank.