Neurosis, thy name is Emily

I’ve been unable to write for the last five days. I’ve been busy. I’ve been exhausted. I’ve been busy number-crunching. It’s been exhausting.

It’s Coinstar, man. It’s all I can think about, that green kiosk of untold bounty. That, and the old-fashioned latch-top jar in which I’ve been collecting spare change for the last three or four years. Just how much that stockpile is worth is anyone’s guess. The ration of quarters—the coin that might make or break any monetary return—was depleted significantly in the seven months last year when I spent them to do my own laundry, but they’re accumulating again, now that I pay cash to have it done for me.

My issue is over 8.9% of whatever I have actually saved in my penny-candy jar. If I want free and easy cash, Coinstar will keep around nine cents of every dollar. No matter what, I get about ninety-one cents of every dollar that might otherwise fritter away on my dresser indefinitely. Not knowing how much I actually have in my jar means not knowing how much, exactly, Coinstar will pocket.

The alternative is to trade my spare change—100% of it—for a certificate to one of a select few retailers. Starbucks, for example. Since I’d probably spend it all on coffee anyway, that makes sense. But I almost never caffeinate at Starbucks. I walk two and a half long blocks past the nearest Starbucks to get to the Dunkin’ Donuts crammed into a stall-sized storefront on 23rd street. Dunkin’ serves a bigger cup at a lower price with a brighter flavor and a warmer reception than the competition.

Duane Reade is also a Coinstar partner, but I live and die by the CVS Pharmacy ExtraCare awards program, which earns me ExtraBucks and frequently offers coupons for CVS-brand products. I could spend my savings on shampoo and conditioner, for example, at DR for a negligible difference in price, but how much would I be losing in ExtraBucks unearned? And will that amount come to more than what Coinstar would have deducted if I had taken straight cash?  As you can see, in my effort to resist marketing ploys, I’ve become helplessly brand loyal.

(When I last visited, the older baristo was valiantly karaoke-ing to Rhianna on the radio and goading his younger and very handsome coworker to dance. That was fun.)

I haven’t been crunching any literal numbers, since the candy jar amount is still completely hypothetical, but I have been trying to figure out whether it’s worth it to fork over nine cents on my dollars for the privilege of buying whatever coffee I want. I feel like, either way, I’m giving into a trend or a marketing ploy that I really know well enough to resist.

Should this really be such a complicated matter? No. It should not. That has never stopped me from over-thinking before. Worrying over silly things like this is a hobby.

I’ve over-thought myself out. I need a Diet Coke. Forget Coinstar. I’m going to take my spare change and find the nearest vending machine.

Update (June 13): Thanks to a tip from Shawn, I have converted my change cache into $79.98 green without weighing the monetary value of every ounce of coffee or sacrificing a single ExtraBuck. Most, if not all branches of Commerce Bank have electronic coin counting machines called “Penny Arcades.” When you pour your change in, you can enter your guess at the total amount. Apparently, a good guess makes you eligible for a prize. At the very least, you get a taste of that The Price is Right sort of anticipation, and I bet the majority of bankers guess too low and are happily surprised. I guessed $41—a little more than half of what I’d saved! The service is free for everyone, not just account holders, and the machines are equipped with a child sized counter to cater to short savers.