|The tree of pure evil|
Money is the root of all evil according to some people, as if the concept of evil is some sort of large mutated plant, with every leaf, root and xylem vessel representing something wicked. But the phrase is wrong. It's not the root of all evil, it's the root of all annoyance and irritation. I suppose that phrase isn't quite as catchy.
It’s the small things that make money so maddening. For example, when cashiers put the coins on top of the note, forcing you to either execute a tablecloth removal manoeuvre to take out the note from underneath the pile of coins, or to crunch up your hand to ensure none of the shiny cylinders escape your grip whilst the note becomes a crumpled mess, an insult to the next cashier you present it to. Most people put the notes and the coins in separate compartments of their wallet/purses so why do cashiers give it to us in one big lump of cash, seeming intent us making fools out of ourselves, fumbling around trying to get everything into the right place without dropping anything.
And I’m not saying put the coins underneath the note either. Just give me the money in the easiest way possible. You don’t need to build a structure worthy of Grand Designs: Coins and Notes Edition on my hand. Just give me the note, wait until it’s put in its correct place and then give me the coins. How hard is that?
Another aggravating currency circumstance occurs when you need £5 or £10 worth of change because the idiotic cash machine only decided to cough out £20 notes, and there aren’t any notes in the till. In order to give you back your correct change, they dish out the £1 coins, making your change that much heavier than normal. It’s not such a large mass that it would force you to walk sideways due to the extra weight in your pocket, but it’s heavy enough to be ubiquitously noticeable. Every time you take a step, you hear the coins jangle in your pocket, knocking against your leg, become increasingly bothersome with each subsequent step. It’s a petty frustration, but it’s a frustration nonetheless.
The most infuriating thing to do with money is cash machines. These lumps of metal seem to have the sole objective of making withdrawing money as painful as possible. Not physical pain though, it’s not as though a clawed hand flies out at you and begins to tear you throat out if you put the wrong PIN number in. Usually, there’s some waddling simpleton trying to get money out in front of you, taking as much time as is humanly possible, as you wait behind them, looking like a poor criminal who has nothing better to do than to hang around cash machines, ready to pounce as your next victim withdraws their money.
Cash machines really aren’t that hard to operate. Somehow, these idiots seems to dither about, wondering whether to get a pointless receipt with their cash or not, checking their bank balance to make themselves feel rich while spending hours feeling smug about it, while you continue to wait. I’m pretty sure that every time that using an outdoor cash machine is the most practical, it’s always pouring with rain and there’s a queue. Sod’s law in action once again.
And the money seems to be spluttered out in the largest denominations possible. If I need £30 for the next few weeks to buy lunch, I don’t understand why the cash machine needs to send me on my way with a £20 note alongside my slightly less irritating £10 note. Just give me six £5 notes and I’ll be happy. I take out money in larger amounts such as £30 in one go rather than three separate trips to get £10 to avoid the damned thing.
Money doesn’t grow on trees, but idiots do. These morons end up getting a job as a professional Cash Machine Dawdlers, only existing to waste our time. And because time equals money, they're throwing our money down the drain. Like filthy rainwater.