by Matt Aiken
It was Saturday and I was broke.
Not completely broke. There’s money in the bank somewhere. But when it comes to real money. Old fashioned money. Actual paper money with the face of a president on it ... I was broke.
And I usually am.
I remember long ago when I left for college my dad gave me a $50 bill to put in my wallet and only use for emergencies. That was a good idea. And a few weeks later I had a Waffle House related emergency.
Meaning I really needed waffles. A few weeks later I had a Wendy’s Value Menu related emergency. Meaning I really needed a Doublestack. The food-related emergencies continued until slowly my emergency $50 bill dwindled to an emergency $5 bill.
It has long been replaced by my debit card. And sometimes Venmo. And occasionally PayPal. Really it’s rare that we actually see the money we’ve earned with our own eyes, right? Though I sometimes think it would be much more satisfying if we were presented with stacks of paper money, or better yet, golden coins on pay day.
But on that Saturday we needed cold hard cash. And we needed it fast. We were headed out the door to the Lumpkin County basketball game and Jake had already tipped me off that they require “real money” at the gate.
So we went to our at-home bank. The First National Bank of Theodore Aiken.
Yes my 6-year-old is a savvy businessman in training. He saves every nickel, every dime, every dollar and, most importantly, every $20 bill.
These funds, which he usually collects from birthday cards and grandparents visits, always wind up in a giant plastic bottle in his room.
What is he saving for? Stock options? Bonds? Bitcoin?
A customizable realistic light saber?
Yes.
That last one.
He’s dreamed of a kyber-crystal powered light saber since he was about four-years old. The only problem is it’s $200 and can only be purchased at a specific store in Disney World. Still he’s slowly and steadily approaching that $200 level. Except on Saturday, he took a few steps back.
“I’m going to Theo’s room,” I said in hushed tones to Katie when we realized we were both out of cash. I stealthily made a withdrawal from the plastic bottle ATM and then headed for the door. It was the perfect heist.
Before you call the sheriff’s office, I should mention that I’ve since paid Theo back. It’s a strange thing to be in debt to a kindergartner. Worse than a credit card company, really.
But since I cover the mortgage and he gets all the Goldfish crackers he can eat, I figured I qualified for a zero interest rate loan right? And thanks to his donation we were able to get to the game by the end of the first quarter to watch the amazing Indians steamroll Tattnall County on their road to the state championship. In fact, we also had enough change left over for popcorn and drinks.
“Thanks,” said Bowen as they headed back from the concession stand.
“Don’t thank me,” I said. “Thank Theo.”
And really, as a generous business man in training, Theo didn’t seem to mind.
Sure he’d probably much rather have an authentic lightsaber. But the next time we’re at Waffle House, I’ll have my debit card. So the emergency waffles are on me.
Matt Aiken is the publisher of the Dahlonega Nugget. Reach him at maiken@TheDahlonegaNugget.com.