Tag Archives: Elvis

What’s In YOUR Wallet?

Image result for funny homeless pics

I have a long and colorful history with the homeless population of any big city I inhabit. There was the woman who hawked a loogie on my apartment front door because she didn’t believe I had no spare change (I really didn’t). There was the guy who broke down crying (leading me to do the same) in front of a 7-Eleven when I gave him $20 on Christmas Day, my unofficial annual tradition. There was the man who routinely coaxed me out of my change in D.C. simply with an ingenious shtick:  He called himself “Blelvis the black Elvis,” and could sing any Elvis tune you asked him. How could you not reward that cleverness? Image result for black elvis

Then there was the event several years ago that cemented my decision to acknowledge the homeless: I had to walk home from a motorcycle repair shop and, not wanting to haul a helmet and heavy jacket, dropped them into an abandoned shopping cart and hoofed it home. I was astounded by how many people would not make eye contact (some even walked on lawns to avoid being on a sidewalk with me), lest they be asked for money. I realized then how we dehumanize that population like human flotsam.

But every once in a while, I come across someone who only reinforces the disdain many people have for them. Like the obnoxious guy in Westwood who would shake his coin cup about an inch from your passing ear to ask for change (how I wanted to slap that cup in the air). And Loogie Lucy was never going to be mistaken for Miss Congeniality.Image result for miss congeniality

Add to those  ranks Capital One Man, who I encountered today.

I was heading home from a doctor’s visit, and stopped at 7-Eleven for my first caffeine of the day. I had a pounding headache from the medical procedure, and the relentless sun made it impossible for me to make eye contact.

But I heard him fine.

“Got any spare change?” he asked. “I need bus fare.”

I couldn’t look him in the eye, couldn’t even make out his face in the orange haze. But I was determined to acknowledge him. “Sorry,” I said. “I only have plastic (that, too, was true).”

He paused a moment, then said, “Cash back?”

I was so thrown off by the response I broke into laughter. Clearly, the guy had been told this before, and had a ready response. Because you can get cash back with an ATM purchase at a 7-Eleven. But the maximum is $10, usually dispensed in a single bill or two $5 bills. Was he expecting a Lincoln or Hamilton?Image result for $5 and $10 bills

I’ll never know, because he was gone when I exited the store. And I felt bad for laughing at the guy.  I know homelessness is no joking matter.

But come on: If you’re that clever, you could at least belt out a couple lines of Love Me Tender.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GSvKkMs2ieo

My Two Cents Worth; Now Worth 3.4 Cents!

 

Like most guys (and this is statistically true), I keep my spare change instead of doing something useful with it, like using it.

At the end of the day, I drop whatever spare coins I have into a plastic jar with the lid cut off. Every four or five months, I lug the 400-pound jug of coins to Coinstar, which tallies the total and rips me off 9% for the counting effort.

That money, in turn, is used on crap. Magic tricks, gadgets and whatzits, candy bars.

But I recently read a story that let me know just how much I was getting ripped off. By the government, no less.

The study by the U.S. Mint found that it cost 1.7 cents to produce a penny, eight cents to produce a nickel. nickel

According to the Treasury’s biennial report to Congress, the government takes a loss of $90.5 MILLION a year in manufacturing the coins, which have become, quite literally, trash for many Americans. The same study found that 2% of americans throw away spare pennies instead of collecting them in a piggy bank, which is becoming about as useful as a pay phone nowadays.

“There are no alternative metal compositions that reduce the manufacturing unit cost of the penny below its face value,” the report to Congress said.

The government makes a mint on other coins. A dime costs 3.9 cents to make, and a quarter 9 cents. All together, the Mint made $289.1 million on seigniorage–the difference between the value of the coin and the cost to make it–despite a $90.5 million drag from the penny and nickel.

I’ve always had a thing for coins. Being a wannabe magician requires you befriend them.

So did being a crime writer all my life. In my first weekend covering cops in Washington DC, a homeless man who called himself Blelvis the Black Elvis approached me for any spare change. Unaware how common panhandling was in DC (in Detroit they just take your wallet), I made the mistake of reaching into my pocket to rummage. That, apparently, is the universal sign language for ‘sucker.’

All I had was 11 cents, a dime and a penny. I apologized and told him that was the sum of my portable wealth.

“That’s more money than I had five seconds ago, thank you,” he replied.

Then he broke into a brief, drunken rendition of Blue Suede Shoes. I’ve paid a lot more for a lot less in return on investment in my life.

Since that day, I have a rule of thumb: If I drop a penny, it stays wherever it fell. If I find a penny, it goes into my pocket, with a wish. Usually it’s that Blelvis has enough change to croon You Ain’t Nothin’ But a Hound Dog.

Rock on, Abe.