Money Matters

None of this is financial advice. Please do not run your budget past a goose.

351. If I put my money under my mattress, will it grow?

Only into a lumpier mattress. Money doesn't sprout. It just hides. You'll lie awake at night feeling every crinkle, like the princess and the pea but with $20 bills. Over the years, the mattress gets lumpier, your back gets worse and inflation quietly makes your money worth less, so you'll have paid for a chiropractor with savings that shrank. Some grandparents still keep cash in mattresses, freezers and old coffee cans. When they pass on, families spend weeks searching the house like it's a treasure hunt. One family in Lloydminster found $4,000 inside a frozen turkey. Nobody ate that turkey.

352. Why is it called a piggy bank and not a cow bank?

Centuries ago, people kept coins in jars made of an orange clay called pygg, according to a popular story. Eventually someone shaped the jar like a pig, and the pun stuck. A cow bank would be enormous and hard to fit on a dresser. It would also need a much bigger slot, and you'd be tempted to put whole wallets inside. A chicken bank would be too small and keep laying eggs. A goose bank would hiss at you every time you tried to put money in, and Brent has asked us not to discuss it. The pig was the right choice. Pigs are round, friendly and excellent at holding things.

353. Can I pay in exact change made of apologies?

Cashiers accept cash, cards and the occasional sigh. Apologies are not legal tender. Canada would be the richest country on Earth if they were. A Canadian buying a coffee would pay with "sorry," "oh, sorry," "sorry about that" and "sorry, you go ahead," and get change back in "no worries." The Bank of Canada has considered printing an official Sorry Note but decided it would cause runaway inflation, as Canadians apologize roughly 40 times a day. Pay in money, and apologize separately, for free.

354. If money doesn't grow on trees, why do banks have

branches?

Excellent question. We asked the banks. They're still laughing. Some branches have leaves, too: they're called brochures. Banks also have roots (in history), trunks (vaults) and the occasional squirrel (a teller hoarding pens, see question 394). The fruit of a bank tree is interest, which grows very slowly, about one tiny apple per decade. Credit cards are the poison ivy growing nearby. If money did grow on trees, everyone would be a gardener, and leaf-blowers would be the most dangerous machines in the world.

355. Is a penny worth picking up?

Canada stopped making pennies in 2012, so if you find one, it's worth a cent and a story. Pennies are now the dinosaurs of Canadian money: still around, but mostly found in jars, couch cushions and the cup holders of old cars. Prices are rounded to the nearest five cents when you pay cash, which confused the whole country for about a week. Many people still bend over for a penny out of habit, then remember and stand up slowly, feeling silly. Pick it up anyway. Put it in a fountain. It's retired; let it see the world.

356. Can I return my change if I don't like the coins?

No, but you can toss them in a fountain and make a wish, which is a return of sorts. Every coin in a fountain is someone's tiny dream, from "I hope I pass my test" to "please make the bus come." Many fountains collect thousands of dollars a year in wishes, which are often donated to charity, so your unwanted change becomes someone else's good day. If you don't like the look of a coin, keep in mind that it doesn't like the look of you either. It's been in thousands of pockets. You're just a stop on its journey.

357. Why do things cost $9.99 instead of $10?

Because $9.99 sounds like a bargain and $10 sounds like a commitment. Your brain falls for it every time. Your brain reads the first number and says "nine dollars, how lovely," while your bank account quietly loses ten. This is called charm pricing, and it's been used for over a century. Stores use $19.99, $99.99 and, for really big purchases, $1,999,999.99, as if a mansion buyer would say "oh good, it's under two million." A store that charged exactly $10 would seem honest and a little suspicious. Nobody trusts round numbers anymore.

358. Is a coupon a discount or a scavenger hunt?

A scavenger hunt. You'll spend 20 minutes finding the one yogurt it applies to. It'll be a specific flavour, in a specific size, from a specific brand, on a bottom shelf behind three other yogurts. When you finally find it and get to the register, the coupon will be expired by one day. Coupon experts, known as "extreme couponers," have walked out of stores with carts full of groceries and a total of $1.47. They have binders. They have strategies. They have garages full of toothpaste. They are the true masters of the hunt.

359. If I save a penny a day, when will I be rich?

You'll have $1,000 in about 274 years. Start now. Unfortunately, as mentioned in question 355, Canada no longer makes pennies, so you'll need to save a nickel a day instead, which gets you to $1,000 in about 55 years. That's more reasonable. If you save a loonie a day, you'll have $1,000 in less than three years, and you'll have a very heavy jar. If you save a toonie a day, you'll have to buy a new jar every few months and your floor might collapse. Saving money is a good idea. Saving coins is a weightlifting program.

360. Can I pay for groceries with board-game money?

Only at the grocery store inside the board game. The real one has strong opinions about pastel cash. Board-game money comes in pink, yellow and green, has no security features and was printed by a company in a factory full of tiny plastic hotels. A cashier who receives a bright orange $500 bill will look at you, then at the manager, then back at you. Some people have tried. All of them were asked to pay with real money and to stop saying "pass Go and collect $200." You can't build hotels on groceries either. We checked.

361. Why does my wallet feel lighter after I go to the mall?

Because it is. Malls have a special magnet. It's hidden in the food court, near the pretzel stand, and it slowly pulls the money out of your wallet as you walk past shops you didn't plan to visit. You entered for a single pair of socks. You leave with a candle that smells like "ocean breeze," a phone case for a phone you don't own and a smoothie. The mall is designed like a maze with no clocks and no windows, so you lose all sense of time. The parking lot is the final boss. You will forget where you parked.

362. Is a credit card free money?

No. It's money that follows you home and asks for more money later, with interest. A credit card is like a friend who buys you lunch and then sends you a bill every month for the rest of your life with a little extra for "emotional support." Credit cards can be useful if you pay them off on time, collect points and act responsibly. Most people do not act responsibly. They see the card as a magical rectangle of infinite pizza. Then the statement arrives. The statement is the villain of every financial story.

363. If it's buy one, get one free, did I pay for the second one?

You paid for the first one at a price that quietly includes the second one. Retail is magic. The store says the second one is free, you feel like you won, and the store also feels like it won. It's a rare situation where everyone is happy and nobody fully understands the math. Sometimes you didn't even need the second item, but you took it because it was free, and now you own two tubs of hummus that expire on the same day. That's the real cost of free stuff: a hummus emergency.

364. Can I invest in my nap schedule?

Naps pay excellent dividends in mood. Returns are not guaranteed after 3 p.m. A short nap in the early afternoon is a blue-chip investment: low risk, high reward, wake up refreshed. A long nap after 4 p.m. is a risky penny stock: you might wake up disoriented, convinced it's tomorrow, and unable to sleep that night. Diversify your nap portfolio with a mix of couch naps, hammock naps and "just resting my eyes" naps on the bus. Avoid investing in naps during meetings. The market reacts badly.

365. Why do I always find money in my coat pocket in

winter?

Past you was a thoughtful saver. Past you deserves a thank-you card. Every autumn, you pull out your winter coat and find a $10 bill, two cough drops, a receipt from a gas station and a mitten from someone else's family. It feels like a gift from a version of yourself you no longer remember. Some people now hide money in their own coats on purpose, so future them gets a surprise. That's financial planning at its finest. It's called a "coat account," and banks are furious they didn't think of it first.

366. Is it bad if my piggy bank is on a diet?

It's not on a diet; it's empty. Feed it. A hungry piggy bank will look at you sadly from the shelf every day. When you shake it and hear only a single lonely coin rattling around, that's the piggy bank's stomach growling. Feed it loose change, birthday money and the occasional toonie found on the sidewalk. Never feed it buttons, Lego or old candy; piggy banks are picky eaters. Some families eventually smash their piggy bank to get the money out, which is heartbreaking. Get one with a stopper on the bottom. Pigs deserve to live.

367. Can I tip myself for doing chores?

Yes, but you'll be the customer and the server, and you'll still complain about the service. "The dishes were adequate, but there was still a spoon in the sink," you'll write on a napkin, then leave yourself a $2 coin and a frown. Some people use a reward jar for chores: every time they vacuum or fold laundry, they put a coin in, and at the end of the month they buy themselves a treat. It's a closed economy of one person, and it works surprisingly well, unless you start embezzling from your own jar for snacks, which you will.

368. Why does the vending machine eat my dollar?

It's hungry, and you looked like an easy meal. Vending machines are predators. They sit quietly in hallways and office break rooms, glowing softly, offering chips and chocolate, waiting for someone to approach. When you feed them a crumpled bill, they pull it in halfway, think about it, and spit it back out with disgust. Or worse, they eat it and give you nothing. Then you shake the machine, and the snack you wanted dangles from the coil, just out of reach. That's the cruellest moment in modern life. Don't shake it too hard. Vending machines fight back.

369. If I win the lottery, can I give it back if I don't like it?

Many winners have wondered this, usually after the third cousin they've never met calls. Lottery winners suddenly discover they have dozens of new best friends, an uncle with a "business idea" and an inbox full of people who want to sell them yachts. Some winners keep living their normal lives, quietly paying off debts and buying nice cheese. Others buy a giant mansion, a tiger and a gold-plated hot tub. Experts recommend hiring a financial planner, staying calm and not telling anyone, which is impossible because the lottery puts your picture on a giant cheque.

370. Does everything at the dollar store cost a dollar?

Not anymore. Everything now costs "a dollar and a bit." Inflation shops there too. The dollar store is a magical place full of party supplies, mystery snacks, kitchen gadgets you'll use once and phone chargers that last exactly one week. You walk in for a single roll of tape and leave with $40 worth of items that each cost "just a few dollars." The dollar store is a lesson in how small numbers become big numbers very quickly. It's also the best place in the world to buy a giant inflatable flamingo (see question 231).

371. Can I pay my taxes in sandwiches?

The tax office accepts money only, even for very good sandwiches. They did look tempted. A man in Regina once tried to pay his taxes with a homemade club sandwich, toothpick and all, and the clerk reportedly said "I can't take this," then quietly ate half of it on her break. Taxes fund roads, schools, hospitals and the people who clear the snow off your street. Sandwiches fund lunch. Both are important, but only one is accepted by the government. If tax season stresses you out, eat a sandwich. Then pay your taxes. Then eat another sandwich.

372. Why is it called a budget if I never stick to it?

"Budget" comes from an old French word for a little leather bag. You're not breaking your budget, you're just opening the bag. And once a bag is open, things fall out, like money, receipts and your self-control. A budget is a plan for how you'll spend your money, created on the first of the month with great confidence and abandoned by the fifth. The most common budget categories are rent, groceries, "miscellaneous" and "oops." The "oops" category is always the largest. Accountants call it "variance." Everyone else calls it "takeout."

373. If money can't buy happiness, can it rent some?

It can rent a jet ski for an hour, which is pretty close. Money can also rent a hot tub on a cold night, a cabin by the lake or a karaoke room with your best friends. These are not happiness itself, but they are happiness-adjacent. Money can't buy love, but it can buy a puppy, which is the next best thing. It can't buy time, but it can buy a dishwasher, which gives you time back. When people say money can't buy happiness, they're right. But it can rent a pretty convincing version for the weekend.

374. Is it rude to count my change in front of the cashier?

It's not rude, it's thorough. Just don't bite the coins. Biting coins was an old trick to test whether they were real gold, back when coins were soft and pirates were common. Today's coins are made of hard metal and taste like everyone's pocket, so please don't. Counting your change is completely fine; cashiers sometimes make mistakes, especially at the end of a long shift. Just count quickly, smile and say thank you. If you count very slowly, one coin at a time, while maintaining eye contact, it becomes a power move.

375. Why do ATMs say thank you when I just took my own

money?

Politeness. Also, they may have charged you a fee, so they're thanking you for that. ATMs are the most polite machines in your life. They greet you, ask how they can help, give you your money and wish you a good day. Imagine if all machines were like this: the microwave saying "thank you for choosing me," the toaster apologizing for burning your bread (see question 70). The ATM is the Canadian of machines. It says "thank you" when you take your own money, and "sorry" when it's out of cash. Respect it.

376. Can I sell my old baby teeth back to the tooth fairy?

The tooth fairy has a strict no-returns policy. All sales are final, and the price was set in childhood. She also doesn't accept used teeth from adults, especially wisdom teeth, which she considers "too opinionated." Nobody knows what the tooth fairy does with all those teeth. Leading theories include a tiny castle, a very large necklace and a secret dental museum on the moon. If you try to sell your teeth back, you'll get a note under your pillow that says "nice try" in glitter. The glitter will never fully leave your bed.

377. What's the exchange rate between allowance and

chores?

One mowed lawn equals one pizza. One clean bedroom equals nothing; that's just expected. Taking out the garbage is worth a granola bar, unless it's raccoon night, which pays double. Washing the car is worth $5, or $10 if you also wash the dog, or $0 if you wash the dog with the car soap. Children are the toughest negotiators on Earth. They will offer to clean the basement for $40 and settle for $3 and a later bedtime. Parents should study this market carefully. It crashes every December, when everyone suddenly wants to be very helpful.

378. Why is everything "out of stock" when I finally have

money?

The universe has a sense of humour. It also has a supply chain. For months you scroll past a jacket you love but can't afford. Then payday arrives, you open the website with trembling fingers, and every size except XXS and "Toddler" is gone. Economists call this the Payday Paradox. Some believe the store can smell your paycheque. Others believe the jacket simply heard you coming and left. Either way, you'll end up buying a different jacket you like slightly less, and wear it every day for six years out of spite.

379. Can I open a bank account for my cat?

Your cat has no ID, no signature and no interest in money. Only in tuna. The bank would ask your cat to sign the form, and your cat would knock the pen off the counter while maintaining eye contact. Cats also make terrible financial decisions. They'd spend their entire savings on a $90 cat tower and then sit in the cardboard box it came in. If cats did have bank accounts, the only transaction would be "withdrawal: all treats," over and over, at 4 a.m. Keep your cat's savings in a jar labelled "tuna fund." Your cat will not contribute.

380. Is a receipt a souvenir?

A long one is a scroll. Some receipts are long enough to wear as a scarf. One pharmacy chain is famous for receipts so long that customers have measured them against their own height and lost. A short receipt is a reminder; a medium receipt is evidence; a long receipt is an ancient text that future historians will study to understand why we bought three bottles of shampoo and a single lime. Keep the receipts from trips. Years later you'll find one in a drawer that says "2 churros, 1 lemonade" and remember the whole day. That's a souvenir.

381. If I find $20 in my old jeans, should I check all my

jeans?

Yes. It's the only investment strategy with a guaranteed return of joy. Check every pair of jeans, then every jacket, then the couch cushions, then under the car seats, then inside your boots. This is called a "full audit," and it's how most people find an average of $7.35, four guitar picks and a single earring. Some people have found concert tickets, love notes and a hotel key from a trip they barely remember. The best time to do a full audit is the day before payday, when $7.35 feels like a lottery win (see question 369).

382. Do coins have heads and tails because they're animals?

They're tiny metal creatures with two sides and no legs, which is why they roll everywhere. Every coin has a head (usually a monarch or a famous person) and a tail (usually an animal, like a loon, a caribou or a polar bear). That makes Canadian coins half royalty and half wildlife, which explains their wild behaviour. Coins hide in couches, under fridges and in car vents, like small mammals looking for a warm place to sleep. The loonie is the most famous of these creatures. It makes no sound, but it does go missing every time you need a shopping cart.

383. Can I haggle at the grocery store?

You can try. The cashier will look at you like you offered to pay in chickens. Some markets around the world expect haggling, and it's a fun and respectful part of shopping there. Grocery stores in Canada are not those markets. If you offer $3 for a $4 box of cereal, the cashier will blink, say "the price is the price," and call the next customer. The only exception is the farmers' market at the end of the day, when a vendor with 40 unsold zucchinis may give you a deal just so they don't have to drive them home.

384. Why is it called retail therapy when it makes my bank

account sad?

Your mood goes up and your account goes down. It's a seesaw. Retail therapy works for about 45 minutes, which is how long it takes to get home, unbox the new sweater and remember that you already own four very similar sweaters. Then the bank app pings, and the therapy session ends. Real therapists have asked to be paid the same way, by having patients buy candles, but this was rejected. If you need a cheaper version, try window shopping. You get all the joy of looking at nice things, and your bank account stays calm.

385. If I borrow money from myself, do I have to pay myself

back?

Yes, and you'll still miss the deadline. You know yourself. Borrowing from yourself usually means raiding your savings jar, "just for this weekend." You'll write yourself an IOU on a sticky note and promise to pay it back by Friday. Friday will come and go. The sticky note will fall behind the fridge. Months later you'll find it and feel betrayed by someone you trusted completely. You can't even send yourself to collections. You'd just answer the phone and say "oh, hi, it's me, sorry."

386. Is a gift card real money or money's cousin?

Money's cousin. It looks like money, only works at one store, and gets weird at family reunions. Gift cards also have a secret talent for disappearing. They hide in drawers, wallets and birthday cards for years, keeping their $25 safely locked away until the store closes or you forget which one it was. A gift card with $1.86 left on it is the most useless object in the world. You can't buy anything with it, and you can't throw it out, because that would be throwing out $1.86. So it lives in your wallet forever.

387. Why is my wallet so thick when there's so little money

in it?

Receipts, loyalty cards and a punch card from a café you visited once in 2017. That punch card has two punches out of ten. You'll never get the free coffee. But you can't throw it away, because what if? The average wallet also contains an expired library card, a photo of someone's dog, a ticket stub, a business card from a man named Doug, and the one coupon from question 358. Your wallet isn't thick with money. It's thick with memories and false hope. Some scientists call it "the George Costanza effect," after a man whose wallet was so fat it exploded.

388. Can I pay my phone bill with good intentions?

The phone company accepts cards, not feelings. Your intentions have been noted. When you call to explain that you meant to pay, you'll be put on hold for 45 minutes and forced to listen to the same 12 seconds of smooth jazz on a loop. Eventually a polite person named Karen will say, "I understand. Would you like to pay now?" You'll say yes. Your good intentions will be filed in a folder labelled "lovely, but no." Some people set up automatic payments to avoid this. Those people have never heard the smooth jazz, and frankly they're missing out.

389. Is it a real sale if they raised the price first?

It's a sale of the idea of a sale. Your excitement is the product. Some stores raise a price from $50 to $80, then put up a giant red sign saying "40% OFF!" and sell it for $48. Mathematically, you saved $2. Emotionally, you saved $32, and that's the number your brain remembers. The bright red signs, the countdown timers and the words "LIMITED TIME" are all designed to make you feel like a lucky hunter. The real winners are the people who print the signs. They're always busy.

390. Why do I have 200 coins and no idea where they came

from?

Coins breed in jars. Nobody has proven it, but nobody has disproven it either. You put a few coins in the jar, then a few more, and one day it's full, heavy and impossible to lift. You don't remember feeding it that much. Some believe coins come from the pockets of every pair of pants you've ever washed. Others believe the jar is a portal. The best solution is to take the jar to a coin-counting machine, which will charge you a fee, count your coins in a deafening clatter, and give you $43.20. You'll feel rich for exactly one dinner.

391. Can I put my money in a blender to make it liquid?

"Liquid assets" doesn't mean that. Your blender would be confused, and so would your bank. It means money you can get to quickly, like cash in your chequing account, not a money smoothie. Putting coins in a blender would make a horrible noise, break the blades and sound like a robot falling down the stairs. Putting bills in a blender would make paper confetti, which the bank will not accept no matter how festive it is. If you want liquid money, put a loonie in a glass of water. It's still a loonie. It's just damp and a little embarrassed.

392. If I'm broke, am I fixed when I get paid?

Temporarily. Most people stay fixed for about three days. Day one is payday: you feel rich, buy groceries and treat yourself to a fancy coffee. Day two you pay rent and bills, and the feeling fades. Day three you check your account and wonder where it all went. By day four, you're broke again, eating crackers and looking under couch cushions (see question 381). Economists call this cycle "the paycheque roller coaster." Financial advisors call it "a budgeting opportunity." Everyone else calls it "life."

393. Do banks really keep piles of gold in the basement?

Some central banks have enormous gold vaults. Most bank branches have a coffee machine and a pen on a chain. The Federal Reserve Bank of New York keeps a huge vault of gold bars deep underground, behind a door that weighs 90 tonnes. Each bar weighs about 12 kilograms, and the workers who move them wear special shoes with magnesium toe caps in case they drop one. Your local branch keeps some cash in a safe, a stack of deposit slips and a bowl of lollipops for kids. The lollipops are the most-stolen item in the building.

394. Why are the pens at banks chained to the desk?

The pens keep trying to escape. They've seen how much money goes past them and want a raise. Bank pens are known to be the most adventurous pens in the world. Without chains, they jump into purses, hide in coat pockets and ride home with customers, never to return. A bank in Saskatoon once counted how many pens it lost in a single year: 2,300. The chains are a peaceful compromise. The pens get a stable job and a nice view of the lobby; the bank gets to keep its pens. Every so often, a pen still escapes by snapping its chain. It's a legend.

395. Can I trade my homework for money?

That's either a business or cheating, depending on who's asking. Don't ask your teacher. Teachers can recognize handwriting from across a gymnasium, and they will notice if your essay suddenly uses words like "notwithstanding." Kids have run homework businesses since the invention of homework, and they always get caught because the client forgets to write a few spelling mistakes in. The safest homework business is helping people understand the work, which is called tutoring and is completely legal. It also pays better. Teachers love tutors.

396. If I buy a lamp, have I invested in brightness?

Yes. It's the only investment that literally lights up. A lamp returns its value every night: instant brightness, a cozy reading corner and a place for moths to hold their parties. Some investments go up and down, but a lamp only goes on and off, which is much easier to understand. Experts recommend diversifying your lamp portfolio with a floor lamp, a desk lamp and a lava lamp for emotional growth. Avoid investing in lamps shaped like flamingos unless you're ready for the attention. Those lamps are volatile.

397. Why do expensive things come in such small boxes?

Rings and watches come in tiny boxes; sofas come in huge ones. We call this the Jewellery Box Theory. We made it up just now. The theory says that the smaller the box, the more nervous you are when opening it. A tiny velvet box can make a whole restaurant go quiet. A giant cardboard box makes the whole family argue about how to get it through the door. The most expensive item in the smallest box is a diamond. The cheapest item in the largest box is packing peanuts. Nobody wants them, yet they arrive in every package, like uninvited guests at a wedding.

398. Can I get a refund for a movie I slept through?

You got two hours in a comfy chair in the dark. That's a great nap deal. No refund. Movie theatres are actually some of the best nap spots in the world: soft seats, a dark room, warm air and a soundtrack. Many people pay $15 to sleep through an action movie and wake up just in time for the credits, feeling refreshed and confused about who won. If you snored, the people around you also paid for a show you didn't intend to give. Next time, buy popcorn. It's very hard to fall asleep while eating popcorn, although Brent once did.

399. Is "I'll pay you back" a promise or a wish?

Depends on the person. For some it's a contract. For others, it's poetry. A contract-type person will pay you back on Friday, with exact change and a thank-you note. A poetry-type person will say "I'll pay you back" with deep sincerity, then vanish like morning fog. You'll see them years later at a wedding, and they'll say "I still owe you, don't I?" and laugh, and you'll laugh too, and neither of you will mention the $20. That $20 is now a story, which is worth more than $20. Barely.

400. How much is this book worth?

Marjorie values it at one overdue fine. Brent values it at one breadcrumb. The market has spoken. A rare-book dealer, asked for an appraisal, held the book at arm's length, said "hmm" for several minutes and then offered to trade it for a bookmark. The crab offered a shiny pebble, which was declined, then quietly left the pebble anyway. In truth, this book's value is measured in how many times you read a question aloud to someone and they say "that's so dumb." By that measure, it's priceless. By any other measure, it's a breadcrumb.