Why I Have No Use For Change In My Life

I have no use for change in my life, and I haven’t for almost 15 years now. No I don’t mean I can’t make personal life adjustments, or I flip out if Target is sold out of Skippy brand peanut butter and only has Peter Pan. I mean I have no use for pocket change: quarters, dimes, nickels, and pennies—all the President’s jingling men. The overriding reason for this is that due to the lack of full function in my hands and fingers on account of my paralysis I have great difficulty handling small, thin objects like coins. And that has impacted my life to various degrees in a bunch of interrelated ways.

So the first challenge is handling the change itself. When you can’t move your fingers then using coins in every day settings is difficult to impossible. I have a major advantage in the sense that my fingers are all straight, whereas most quads’ fingers are curled up in a fist, which happens as the finger muscles slowly contract post-spinal cord injury. Thankfully, my OT had the foresight to make me hand splints that prevented that. Why that’s not a standard post-SCI practice across the board, I just don’t know because I think so many people would be much more functional that way. That said, it’s still tough. Executing patient concentration I can pick up coins one at a time using my thumb and forefinger aided by tenodesis (cocking the wrist upward naturally brings those two fingers together—a quad trick of the trade). Licking my fingers certainly helps to increase that sticky pickup friction too (another quad trick of the trade).

Even so, by default it mostly wipes out my ability to use change in regular, conventional ways like vending machines or parking meters. Picking a coin up and holding in my hand is one thing, but being able to maintain that controlled grip to hand them to a cashier or plug them into the coin slot on a vending machine is quite another. The first time I tried to use a soda machine on my own post-SCI, I dropped three quarters on the ground before I had to resort to alternative measures. I ended up folding a piece of paper so it had a crease, then I put the edge of the paper crease near the coin slot and tipped the paper so the coins would slide down along the crease and into the machine. That was the most delicious can of Coke I’ve ever had in my life because it was such a high effort reward. But as “quad practical” as that might be it’s hard to have the patience for that kind of effort all the time when it’s easier to just ask for help, even though I rarely like doing that.

My lack of full ability to handle change often leads to challenging or awkward money exchanges too. People with full hand function can squeeze their fingers together and form a cup with their hands so no change falls out. I have to try to make sure that the change lands in the palm of my hand so it doesn’t fall through the cracks of my fingers. Where I considered this a big challenging hurdle in my early post-SCI years was when it came to going through fast food drive-thrus. I still remember how nervous I was when I went on my first post-SCI drive-thru mission. After I had a successful exchange of money and food my arms were shaking a little as I drove away because I was so relieved that it went smoothly and full of pride in such a big accomplishment—and it thusly opened another door to my independence. Seems silly thinking back, but those are the “big” steps that people with SCI overcome as they readjust back to the real world.

Still, I can’t tell you how many times I’ve dropped coins in those kinds of situations over the years. The more interesting thing is observing how various people react to it. A few weeks ago I dropped a quarter at my local convenience store and the cashier quickly and enthusiastically came around to grab it for me. That was nice but it always feels a bit awkward holding up the line, not that I really care though. Other combinations have ranged from me or the cashier asking the next person in line to grab it, to people looking blankly at me waiting for me to get it, to me just leaving it there because I don’t have time to mess around with a measly nickel anyway. When I’ve dropped change in drive-thrus sometimes they give me replacement coins and sometimes not, depends on the cashier. Last week a drive-thru cashier noticed my lack of finger dexterity when I gave her my cash and she wrapped my change tightly in the cash before she handed it back to me. I thought that was a really nice touch.

Even if I could handle change more successfully, how I carry it around is a bit tricky. Because I’m sitting down all the time using my front pockets isn’t an option on account of how tightly closed they are. Plus quad fingers don’t fish coins out of tight places that well anyway. So that would mean doing things like carry a change purse everywhere, and that’s a) annoying and b) I’m not that guy. So I never carry change anywhere.

What I do with it is another story. More often than not, over the years I’ve tossed the change I’ve received between my legs on the front of my wheelchair cushion. Or if I’m wearing extra baggy pants or something that takes up more crotch room I just set it in a fold of shirt on my lap. It’s hanging loose and unsecure either way. That said, I am often serenaded to the sweet sound of a variety of amounts of my “crotch change” hitting my wheelchair and the floor as I transfer into bed at night. It’s become part of my morning routine that whoever helps get me up in the morning puts the fallen coins in my change bottle bank.

Another key element in my life is all the money that I’ve “lost” over the years. For example, if I pay for something that costs $1.02 I hand the cashier two singles and get 98 cents back, which goes right into my change jar instead of getting reused since I can’t use it very easily. So in a roundabout way I lose a dollar in that deal. And that’s happened in all combinations of amounts of change I’ve received back from purchases for almost 15 years now. Sure I still ultimately get it back whenever I cash in my change jar, but I’ve only done that a few times so I don’t see all that money for many years. But what a payday! Related, I would guesstimate that I’ve also lost somewhere between $10 and $15 over the years in coins that I’ve dropped here and there where I didn’t have help picking them up, couldn’t pick them up myself, or it just wasn’t worth taking the time to pick them up. Not a lot of money no, but it would have come in handy at those times where my wallet was tapped with no ATM in sight.

So like I said, I have no use for change in my life. And honestly, I’ve come to the conclusion that change is overrated anyway.

What do you do with your change? Any tricks of the trade to share?

Photo Source: MoneyBlogNewz