My wallet is in a state of disarray. When I bought some milk from the dairy this morning, I got one of those newfangled 50 cent coins with the change. “Here is a new coin,” the dairy man said to me in case I was about to erupt in rage and accuse him of short-changing me.
So now the delicate size-based hierarchy of my wallet has been upset. The 10 cents are poking their tongues out at the little 50 cent and have declared that it’s actually only worth 15 cents.
The tuataras on the 5 cents are denying their impending extinction, pointing out they’ve been around for 225 million years and ain’t plannin’ on goin’ nowhere.
The kiwi on the 20 is also refusing to leave, noting that his extinction has been predicted since 1990 and yet he’s still around and anyone who says otherwise is a jealous hater.
The Endeavour on the new 50 cent says that even though he is smaller, he still has the same number of sails and can still sail the seas of colonial oppression, thanks.
The $1 and $2 coins are strangely quiet, perhaps recognising that it’s best for them to say nothing at this stage.
Obviously this is going to require a bit of tact and diplomacy to handle. I’m thinking of getting the Queen (the sensible, middle-aged version on coins from the mid-’80s to mid-’90s) to step in as a mediator, otherwise I’m going to be stuck using EFTPOS for everything.