Loose Change

I went to my first rehearsal this morning and it did not go well. It seems I am unable to urinate under pressure. They kept me supplied with cups of tea but when I received my cue I couldn’t force a drop. It’s a pity, but I shall never forget my days treading the boards.

It’s probably for the best as I have pressing issues at home to take care of before I start a new life as a wandering player. One issue in particular is vexing me. I haven’t spoken to anyone about it yet, but I need to talk to someone.

It all started last summer. I was in a pub with a friend on a sunny, Saturday afternoon when it was my turn to get the drinks in. I reached into my pocket when I got to the bar and found that I had a twenty-pound note and a handful of change. I really wanted to get rid of the coins as they were weighing my pocket down, so I paid with them. I didn’t have the exact amount so I waited for my change. When it came I found I had more coins than before. Their collective value was less, of course, but still the plan had backfired somewhat.

When it was my round again I went to the bar and attempted once more to rid myself of my loose change, but exactly the same thing happened: I went back to the table with more change than I had when I left.

A few hours later, it was time to leave. I had to heave my jangling pockets to the car as if I were dragging a ball on a chain. It was exhausting. I got home and found the easiest thing to do was to take a knife to my pockets and allow the coins to pour out from my trouser legs. It took me over an hour to count it all. It seemed I now had sixty-two pounds whereas I had left the house earlier with just a little less than twenty-five. How could that possibly be? I called for a recount and, sure enough, I had somehow more than doubled my money in the course of the day.

The next morning I woke early and decided to walk to the bottom of the road to buy a newspaper. I picked a few coins up from the pile and off I went only to return a few minutes later with more money than I had left with. This was getting ridiculous, but it was not without its advantages, of course.

Over the following week I paid for everything in small change. I had to take cloth sacks of money with me, with some empty ones to carry the extra change back.

A few months later and my problem was what to do with it all. I didn’t want to put it all into a bank where my account would be credited with data, which would not have the same eccentricity. I had filled every spare area of my cupboards and drawers by then with loose change and half of the spare bedroom was given over to the storage of yet more.

Christmas came and went. I got all my relatives and friends expensive gifts, all paid for with loose change. The more I spent on them the more I had at the end of the spree. I decided not to go back to work in the new year. I quit and spent all my time spending my change in an effort to make money. But the stakes were higher now. I had all manner of bills to pay, suddenly, so every waking hour had to be given over to trying to rid myself of my small change so that I might be able to keep up with my outgoings.

I started hiring local kids to go out with wheel-barrows of coins with shopping lists. I let them keep whatever they bought so long as they brought the change back. In no time at all I had run out of room. I had to wade through coins to get anywhere in the house. There was nothing else for it: I had to move to a bigger house.

I found a sprawling farmhouse with half a dozen out-buildings that was perfect. The owner was reluctant to accept payment in change, of course, but I persuaded him by offering him double the asking price. But spending that much change saw me receive tonnes of it in return and even with the extra storage space I had nowhere to put it all.

I started hiring warehouses to put it all, accountants to keep track, office staff, security guards . . . I am now presiding over an empire: a multi-million pound industry. But it’s all getting out of hand. I am sure you have heard of the recent world-wide stock market crash. Analysts have put it down to money leaving the system and central banks have had to pump more of it in.

Of course money is leaving the system: it’s all in my warehouses! They say it’s all down to banks handing out loans that will never be paid back but that’s just guesswork. The truth is, they don’t know what’s causing it. Even I don’t really know. I don’t want to be responsible for global economic meltdown. And I am sure it is only a matter of time before they find out where all the money is going. Every time there is a knock at my door I jump out of my skin. The only reason that can be said to be silly is that when they do come for me, they won’t be knocking: they’ll crash through my windows at the end of ropes, screaming at me that I should get down on the floor.

I can’t even give it away. That would be far too irresponsible. I am only one man yet I have brought the world to the brink of bankruptcy; can you imagine what would happen if there were thousands of people trying to rid themselves of all that change? We’d be back in the middle ages within six months.

I could deposit it all into my account but what effect will flooding the economy with so much, so suddenly have? Your savings would be rendered worthless overnight.

So that’s where I am right now. I just don’t know what to do.