![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
Not the worst reason to cultivate a drug habit
I have a $100 bill that I can't get rid of.
It started innocently enough -- my iPod headphones stopped working en route to the gym. No problemo, there's a Best Buy over on 23rd, I'll just pop in there. I get my 'phones and the AC-adapter iPod charger I've been meaning to buy for the last year or so, and walk to the counter. "That'll be $123," the young lady says.
Flashes of my ill-fated razor purchase -- over a hundred dollars for headphones and an iPod charger? I am shocked speechless, the card dangling limply from my hand. Moments later, I'm standing in a different line, returning my purchase. A remarkably hassle-free transaction, with one caveat: my money is returned in cash form, including a C-note.
That was four days ago. The ones, fives, and tens have since disappeared from my wallet. Only that goddamned Benny remains.
You see, despite my many tales of outlandish, gangsta-style living, I don't actually spend a lot of cash. My foldin' money is reserved for precious few transactions: coffee, cab fare, street food, and other $20-and-under delicacies. Anything that an elementary-schooler couldn't afford goes on the card. $100 is exactly the wrong amount of money; too much to buy my coffee, too little to buy dinner (except when my dinner is cheap delivery from seamlessweb, which of course is purchased via card).
The other night I tried to pay my cabbie with the $100. He looked at me like I offered to pay him in Irish punts. This morning I tried to change it at Starbucks . . . at 6 a.m. "Sorry -- you're like the second customer I've had in here this morning." Yeah yeah, whatever.
Money that you can't spend isn't money. All about the Benjamins, indeed.
It started innocently enough -- my iPod headphones stopped working en route to the gym. No problemo, there's a Best Buy over on 23rd, I'll just pop in there. I get my 'phones and the AC-adapter iPod charger I've been meaning to buy for the last year or so, and walk to the counter. "That'll be $123," the young lady says.
Flashes of my ill-fated razor purchase -- over a hundred dollars for headphones and an iPod charger? I am shocked speechless, the card dangling limply from my hand. Moments later, I'm standing in a different line, returning my purchase. A remarkably hassle-free transaction, with one caveat: my money is returned in cash form, including a C-note.
That was four days ago. The ones, fives, and tens have since disappeared from my wallet. Only that goddamned Benny remains.
You see, despite my many tales of outlandish, gangsta-style living, I don't actually spend a lot of cash. My foldin' money is reserved for precious few transactions: coffee, cab fare, street food, and other $20-and-under delicacies. Anything that an elementary-schooler couldn't afford goes on the card. $100 is exactly the wrong amount of money; too much to buy my coffee, too little to buy dinner (except when my dinner is cheap delivery from seamlessweb, which of course is purchased via card).
The other night I tried to pay my cabbie with the $100. He looked at me like I offered to pay him in Irish punts. This morning I tried to change it at Starbucks . . . at 6 a.m. "Sorry -- you're like the second customer I've had in here this morning." Yeah yeah, whatever.
Money that you can't spend isn't money. All about the Benjamins, indeed.
Comments