We had a change jar when I was a kid. Actually, it wasn’t a jar; it was an old milk jug. It lived in my dad’s closet, I added to it occasionally but never saw it emptied, and it was pseudo-mysterious. My grandmother had a gallon ice cream bucket dedicated solely to the drummer boy quarters. If you don’t know what those are, google it because they’re pretty cool. Anytime I found one I gave it to her. I wonder what she did with all those drummer boys…
As an adult who uses a credit card for 99.9% of purchases – yes, even gum – I never had spare change, save the two dollar bills I kept at all times for panhandlers. But that’s a story for another day. When my child turned three I gave him a piggy bank (thebans I had as a kid), but I often had to go out and find change for him to fill it with because I never used cash.
Then we moved to Japan. Outside of Tokyo, Japan is still largely a cash society. I carry yen. And I pay in yen. And I get change in yen. Lots of change.
It was becoming a problem, so a few weeks ago I gathered up all my change, funneled it into the extra pocket in my wallet, and forced the zipper closed. Wherever I went that day, I was paying with coins.
Except that day I met my husband for lunch. Our check was 1782 (or something like that) yen. I wanted to cave: Let’s just pay with bills, I said, and see if the bank on base will change our money for us. No, my husband insisted, let’s use the change. I dumped out my wallet on the table (very un-Japanese) and my husband started stacking coins.
In the end, we had seven stacks of coins, including stacks of five yen coins and one yen coins (or yennies, as my friend calls them). We played rock paper scissors for who had to actually carry the money up and pay. One, two, three, shoot. I lost. Palming the stacks in both hands, I put the check practically in my armpit and walked up to the cashier.
“Gomen nasai,” I said in my best Japanese, placing the stacks on the money plate and handing him the check with both hands. “I have a lot of change,” I said sheepishly in English. The cashier looked at the check, then looked at the change plate. The stacks were sorted by denomination but not in increments of 100. “Is it all here?” the cashier said, then before I could answer, continued, “Okay, I think it’s all here. Thank you.” And he put the check in the register.
I hung back, lurking near the bathroom door, while he counted the coins and placed each denomination in the correct channel of the register (all while another customer waited to pay). I wouldn’t have had to wait. I could have left. I could have shorted him – by 100s of yen probably – and he would have just let me go.
This is the length to which Japanese people will go out of their way to be polite and respectful. I think he told me to go because 1) it would question my honesty to have me stand there while he counted it all; and 2) it would inconvenience me by taking up my time while he counted.
Inconvenience me. Question me. Take up my time. Can you imagine that in an American restaurant? Especially a popular one with a half dozen locations? I can’t. Hell, when I cashiered our family rummage sales I would have made someone stand there while I counted the change. Every penny.
The experience of being “dismissed” from the change counting was mortifying. I was all too aware of what an ass I had been. I had inconvenienced this man, took his time, took the time of the next person in line to pay, just to lighten my purse. As if because he worked for a business he was a faceless bot who existed solely to complete transactions. I felt almost disgraceful. It will probably go on the top ten list of “things in life I would go back and do over.” It was that impactful.
I don’t have trouble finding change for my child’s piggy bank in Japan. In fact, my husband and I have banks now, too, to stash change. When they are full, which will probably be soon, we will go to the bank on base and see if we can have it changed to bills. If we can’t, I will go to a Japanese bank and open an account if I have to. Inconvenient? Yes. But better for that inconvenience to fall on me than someone else.
Recent Comments