“Find a penny, pick it up, and all the day you’ll have good luck!”
Yes, we’ve all heard, and chanted—and perhaps even believed—that little rhyme.
But I’m somewhat ashamed to say that there was a time in my life, as a young adult, when I was too proud to bother picking up pennies—or any small change, for that matter—that I happened to see lying on the ground. If it was less than, say, a quarter—I would practically scoff, figuring it wasn’t worth my time or effort to stop, bend over, pick it up…
But during my life, two specific events had a profound impact on me, forever changing my attitude about this:
Waiting Tables
The first one happened back when I was in my late twenties. I was working a full-time job, Monday – Friday, at a manufacturing firm, and had taken an evening job waiting tables to supplement my income. Anyone who’s waited tables understands that your income is reliant upon your tips; our hourly pay was only $2.10/hr, and since we were required to report our tips to the company, then the income tax on our tips was also deducted from our tiny paychecks—so the bi-weekly checks were generally rendered insubstantial, almost an afterthought. Our nightly cash tips was where we made our money.
As for me, since I was single, and was already working a full-time production job—with decent health benefits and such—the cash I made every evening waiting tables was just “blow money” or “beer money”, whatever you want to call it. It didn’t mean much to me, just a little extra cash on the side.
So one evening, I had a big table full of really rude people (not unusual), who “ran” me the entire time they were there. By “running me”, I mean instead of taking advantage of each time I visited the table, and all of them letting me know what they wanted or needed—enabling me to make one complete trip for everyone—only one or two would of them would mention they needed something, and I would run to get it and return, then somebody else would ask for something, so I would run to get that, return, then someone else…on and on and on.
And, if I happened to walk past the table on my way to another table, somebody would turn and stop me, again asking for something.
Whenever you get a table full of people like that, not only is it extremely difficult to serve the table well, but it also diminishes the quality of your service to the other tables—which translates to lower tips across the board. If one table gets bad enough, sometimes you just have to let it go, basically forfeiting any tip you might have gotten from that table, in the interest of maintaining quality service to the others, thus preserving your tips there (and besides, there seems to be a fairly high correlation between rude and inconsiderate people, and low tips or no tip at all anyway, irrespective of the quality of your service).
And sure enough, after they ran me around all evening, they up and left, leaving just a handful of pocket change on the table as a “tip”. I was furious.
So I grabbed the change, marched to the bussing station, where several of my co-workers were working away fixing drinks and grabbing silverware and dishes and whatnot, stepped through the doorway, and flung the change into the air, shouting, “Anyone want a TIP?!”
The coins jingled to the ground, bouncing and rolling everywhere. And to my astonishment, my co-workers—as it happens, all women at the time—stopped what they were doing, crouched to the floor, and began quickly picking the coins up and shoving them in their pockets.
You have no idea the impact this scene had on me.
I quickly realized that many of them were single mothers, with kids to feed. Unlike me, they weren’t too proud to accept small change. I could only imagine that in their difficult circumstances—likely much more difficult than mine—every tiny bit probably helped.
I felt absolutely ashamed of myself, and was suddenly very appreciative of my own circumstances. So from that day on, I decided to better appreciate what I have, what I receive from others, and stop acting like I was too good to accept small change—which is always better than nothing.
Becoming Homeless
I won’t go into all the events, poor choices, and circumstances that transpired in my life over the course of about fifteen years, eventually causing me to become homeless; that’s not the point of this article. Suffice it to say that after a divorce, in which I lost a good portion of my life savings and was unable to finish flight school after leaving my career job and relocating out of state to do so, I entered a slow death-spiral, from which I was unable to recover. Things got worse and worse, and my ability to cope continued to diminish, until I finally hit rock bottom. Unemployed, broke, and entirely dysfunctional at that point, I got kicked out of where I was staying, and had nowhere left to go. I was terrified.
Fortunately, with the help of some people close to me, I didn’t end up homeless in the street. Rather, I was given an opportunity to correct course and rebuild my life. With no pride whatsoever remaining to inhibit me, I seized the opportunity. That was over a decade ago (UPDATE 2024: it’s now been nearly twenty years ago), and to this day I’ve never forgotten how close I came to becoming homeless, and how terrifying that reality is.
So I can tell you from experience that when you reach that point where you have absolutely nothing, you develop an acute sense of appreciation for anything and everything—especially anything you receive from others. You come to the realization that nobody owes you anything, so anything they do for you, or give to you, is a gift—and should be treated accordingly.
Anyway, the two aforementioned incidents/situations changed my attitude toward everything I receive in my life. I’ve learned to appreciate what I have, appreciate what others do for me, give to me—understanding that these are all gifts, not obligations.
And this is true for even the tiniest of things, like finding a penny or nickel on the ground; but for me, it’s even more than that—for I’ve turned that simple, random event into a ritual.
My Ritual
After turning my own life around all those years ago, I made a conscious decision that from now on, whenever I find a penny or other small coin on the ground, yes, I stop to pick it up—but not simply out of appreciation; rather, because I’ve turned it into a ritual that I perform, in order to acknowledge and appreciate everything in my life.
So whenever I happen to come across a seemingly worthless coin on the ground, I use it as a reminder of what I’ve been through, and the help I’ve received from others, and the gifts I’ve received, and how lucky and fortunate I really am, how good I really have it, all things considered.
Picking up the coin, I make myself stop and take a moment—regardless of how busy I think I am, how much of a hurry I think I’m in, how many seemingly “important” things I have to do—to reflect, to consciously appreciate everyone and everything in my life, and to give thanks.
And I gotta say, each and every time I do so, my day gets a little brighter.
And that’s why I always pick up pennies.
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