Rich people's problems

A friend recently repaid my purchase of theater tickets with a $100 bill. She expressed relief at unburdening herself of this inconvenient currency. And I understood why. Of what use was this denomination for the kinds of everyday purchases we tend to make: a $3.99 bunch of asparagus, a $9.99 T-shirt, a $1.99 cup of coffee, a $15 movie ticket. No merchant ever seems to have change for $100. So it’s a tar-baby bill. And I was stuck with it. Or it was stuck to me.

 Other, of course, had the solution: Go to the bank and cash it in for smaller denominations. Which I did. But on my way there, I started imagining what would happen if I inadvertently gave the $100 bill to a panhandler. Initially, that person might feel that her ship had come in. But it would be even more difficult for her to use than it was for me. For one thing, a merchant might be suspicious of a homeless person trying to pay for anything with a large bill. Police might even be called. Virtually no one--except maybe a drug dealer--would be willing to accept it. The homeless person would be stuck with a grim mockery of her good luck, Ben Franklin gazing smugly at her distress.

 I told the bank teller about my imaginings, and we had a good laugh about the sad irony of it all. But it wasn’t really funny. And as I walked home with my walletful of $20 bills, I felt overwhelmed by the hopelessness of everything, and throughout the day I handed out more $5 bills than I usually do. At least Abe doesn’t smirk.

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