The Power of Pocket Change
by Angela Brown

I was in my late teens, living on my own and surviving merely on a few crummy burgers a week. Scraping my pennies together, sometimes I only had enough for a ninety-nine cent item from the drive thru menu.
I was working four jobs; two of them full time and the other two rotated around my free weekends. I wasn't exactly thriving.

I'd cut all unnecessary expenses out of my lifestyle but I still had a car payment, auto insurance, rent, groceries, utilities, telephone, gasoline, education and the bare necessities. I couldn't afford to get sick because I didn't have any health insurance or savings to pay for a doctor's visit. It was then that I took ill.
It could have been from a lousy diet, could have been triggered from lack of sleep or just sheer mental exhaustion that resulted from working around the clock.

It was my health at first and then my attitude that slipped. It's hard to be positive when you're broke and even harder when you are broke and sick. Guess the only thing worse than that is to be broke, sick, and ugly.

It was the lowest part of my financial struggle when I got a call that my Grandpa Brown had passed away.
Pog we called him. We made up the name when we were too young to say the huge word Grandpa.

Pog never met a stranger, even the check out clerks at the grocery were laughing after ringing him up. He was a magnificent storyteller who could tell a medley of stories until my Grandma cut him off. June was his real name, and Grandma would give him this nagging "Oh June!" and that was his cue to turn off the stories.

It was in the ignorance of my youth, and at a time when he was feeble and old, that I moved thousands of miles away. I would give anything today to hear one more story from Pog.

Dad called me to give me the news and asked if I would be able to make it home for the funeral.
I cried. I didn't have the money for a flight, and no money for gas for the drive. Mom and Dad still had seventeen kids living at home and couldn't exactly afford to fly me home either.
I was mad at myself for lack of preparation. I should have had an emergency fund. I should have had a game plan so I could at least pay my final respects to the marvelous Mr. Pog.

Broke, sick, ugly and mad at myself I took constructive action.
I quit a couple of my jobs so I could sleep and get my health back.
I changed careers and took on higher paying work that gave me more financial latitude.

I still lived primarily off fast food for a while but instead of scraping pennies for a meal, I rounded up to the next dollar and paid for my purchase only with bills. Even if my fries were only a buck and four cents, I would give the drive-thru clerk $2 and the change went in a savings jar for an emergency fund...or a funeral.

You too can start a savings or an emergency fund, by rounding up to the nearest dollar and putting away the change. It adds up quickly. Don't wait until it's too late. A tough lesson to have to learn...and Pog, I only remember you alive and well.

Angela Brown © 2004, Angela facilitates lectures and seminars to assist commissioned salespeople in becoming a total package person. You can contact her at Angela@WordsofWellness.com