By the grace of my parents, I have been living with them and working for the company that they own. A couple of years ago my dad bought a coin-rolling machine, an industrial-sized apparatus that works something like this: I put a large bag of quarters, dimes, nickels, or pennies in the top part, called the hopper. After a shudder and a squeal, the machine produces a roll of quarters, dimes, nickels, or pennies. The machine produces a roll about every second or faster. Then I box up the money, tape it up, and eventually it goes into a safe. We then sell the money back to the bank for $5.25 a box, including delivery. The bank gives us loose coin, we roll it and box it up, and we sell it back to them for a generous profit. It's quite a lovely job.
So this is what I did this week:
Wednesday: Quarters. That's all I did. My family went on vacation in Island Park, and I had a lovely surprise for me when I returned--a room full of coin. The entire floor was covered with bags of every kind of coin. The only problem was that the exit chute did not open wide enough to let the rolls of quarters through, so every other roll of quarters, I had to bend down, fish out the offending roll, and clear the machine, hearing the coins clink in the rejection bin and knowing that I would have to dig them out of there, too. That day, I learned that each roll of quarters is a gift from God. I also developed a deep loathing for Canadian currency. Not Canadians, mind you, just their quarters. They are slightly thinner than our quarters, and they clog the coin machine.
Thursday (today): I turned on the coin machine, and it greeted me the same way it greets me every morning--with the initials P.O.S. At least it doesn't lie about what it is. Today was entirely devoted to dimes. While they are small enough to get through the exit chute, they are also small enough to tumble through every other part of the machine and clog it up. They are also, in my opinion, the second-dirtiest coin, the first being the penny. In the dimes, I found what I usually find in filthy money: bobby pins, nails, fingernails and toenails, and the occaisional stray pubic hair, of which I have no idea how it got mixed in with peoples' money, and if you have any idea, don't tell me, because I don't want to know.
Tomorrow: I have nickels and pennies to look forward to.
Skrosk Family Updtes 2013
10 years ago
4 comments:
Oh my gosh. That's so totally disgusting--which means I'm cracking up.
I want that job!
Haha ... I actually used to have that same job back when I was in college. Only I worked at an armored car service and worked in the vault at night after hours. So I know what you mean. I got pretty good at fixing the machines after a roll blew up (we had two running at the same time ... kept me pretty busy!).
How do you get the coins to roll, and also, how do you sell them back to the bank for money?
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