For a short time while growing up, we lived with my uncle, who was head chef at a fine food establishment in town. I remember living there fondly, because we had crazy amenities there... a soda machine with free Pepsi, Mountain Dew and root beer in glass bottles (soda that was delivered every other week by the local Pepsi distributor), a state-of-the-art entertainment center with plenty of movies to choose from, and ATVs to provide a lifetime of entertainment.

Of course, like most dream worlds—there was one room that was forbidden. My uncle’s room. My Pandora’s box.

I was eight, but I was still left on my own from that moment the bus dropped me off until one of the adults got home. Guess I was one of those latch key children, if only we’d locked the doors. Small town living.

Anyway, one afternoon I was feeling adventurous and checked out his room. I don’t recall much about the room, but I do remember what I found on his dresser.

Change.

Several hundred dollars. In change.

Incredible. Until recently, I’d never seen anything like it. How can one accumulate so many coins?

And now I know—hence why I was reminded of this childhood experience. It’s called the service industry. With so much cash on hand, I can no longer even attempt to keep track of the change. Whoever cleans out my house after I pass on will definitely have a payday.

I find myself wondering if I should pick up one of those 5-gallon glass water jugs to hold it. Or a milk jug. Or maybe I should plan weekly trips to the bank?

While I was flying a desk, I was living cash poor—rarely having two quarters to rub together. Now? I have plenty of liquidity in the bank, but I always seem to have at least $600 cash on hand as well.

It’s a different life, that’s for sure.

What i'm listening to:

I Just Wanna Stop
Gino Vannelli
Brother to Brother