Two Cents Worth

Let’s be honest. A penny saved ain’t worth diddly-squat.

Kjell Wooding | 2003-02-18

I’ve been on a crusade against pennies for a couple of years now. It started innocently enough. One day, when my jeans-pocket-coffee-fund was running a little low, I had to dig deep for my morning Starbucks fix. I ventured into my trusty parking meter fund (Volkswagens have ashtrays standard, but no friggin’ cup holders. Discuss), and came up with 27 pennies.

Pennies? Parking meters don’t even take nickles, for fart’s sake.

It really hit me the other day when I did some random (and I do mean random) shopping: Used CDs, green peppers, and beer. At every store, the total included one or two pennies. In every store, the clerk instinctively reached around the counter and pulled the pennies from the “leave a penny” tray. I was used to this at, say, Mac’s, but for beer?

A liquor store charging less that the full amount for product (even if only by two cents) was the final nail. “The penny,” I declared, “is officially over.”

“The penny,” I declared, “is officially over.”

For a while, I simply threw out pennies when I got them. If for no other reason, this action is good for the reaction. People literally freak out when you throw out money. “Save all your pennies,” they crow, “It will add up to real money in no time.” Math time: let’s say I save all my pennies for a year. And, for the sake of argument, let’s say after a typical day’s purchases (Grande Kenya, black) I have three pennies left over. Keep all those pennies in a jar, and what do you have?

But wait: Since the object of the game was to “save those pennies,” you separated all the American pennies from the Canadian ones and rolled them separately, right?

Oh, and you removed all the collectible pennies, right? They could conceivably be worth something, too.

In short, you have spent over an hour, not counting the time needed to travel to the bank and argue with the teller that there really are 50-cents-per-roll. (conservatively, 45 minutes). So, let’s call the whole experience two hours worth, and call your income for that period $11. That’s $5.50 an hour. Congratulations. You could have spent that time working the worst minimum wage job that you could find, and made more. And the job would probably come with a snazzy hat and free food.

Come on, admit it: You have fully fourteen pounds of pennies at home waiting to be wrapped. Assuming you actually have enough pennies to purchase the penny wrappers required to turn the rest into little brown rolls of bank-food (an interesting equilibrium calculation that I'm sure forms part of a master's thesis out there somewhere), do you really have the time or inclination to do it?

When I was a kid, I had the Mojo standard. The Mojo, an almost inedible square of guar gum, artificial coloring, and (apparently) flavour, represented the cheapest item that money could buy. At the time, it was two cents. Anything less than that, and you left Burt’s convenience store empty-handed. Thus, pennies had an actual purpose.

That means there’s officially nothing that can be purchased for less than five cents, save the occasional square of Jawz Technologies stock.

Now, Mojo’s are up to a nickel. That means there’s officially nothing that can be purchased for less than five cents, save the occasional square of Jawz Technologies stock.

And for all you who complain “But stores will just round their priced up to the nearest nickle,” I have two comments for you.

So take note, politicans. If you want to leave a lasting impression on the Canadian landscape, get rid of that infernal piece of zinc.

It will be the first, and last time you’re ever thanked for lightening the pockets of the average Canadian taxpayer.

Kjell Wooding

Tuesday, February 18, 2003
PD DLXXXVII

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