Today I returned a book on tape to the Cracker Barrel. A lady with "Rising Star" printed in gold on her brown apron gave me back change in cash. Actual bills and change.
It took her a while to count it out and it took me a while to figure out where to put it. Now my purse is a little heavier.
In the process of moving, I gathered up nickels, dimes, and even the odd quarter from around my apartment. This money had been ignored largely because it was, well, insignificant. But all together, it added up to almost twenty bucks that I didn't even know I had!
Which is why I'm grateful for debit cards. My little blue card fits easily in my wallet . It doesn't jingle when I walk or make one pocket sag. I don't have to count it. And, if at the end of the month I want to know how much I managed to...um...invest in Starbucks coffee, my card keeps a record and I can look it up. (Mostly I ignore that number, but it's nice to know it's there if I want it.)
What may be even more convenient is that I can autodraft my bills and such. For we, the forgetful, autodraft is on par with the invention of penicillin. It keeps my scattered self on time and avoids ugly late fees and the guilt of finding a three month old tithe check still tucked snugly in my wallet.
Sure, I see the value of actual money, particularly when parking by a meter or on the rare occasion a gumball craving hits. But, as handsome as those presidents are, I still think my debit card is prettier!