The Wee Thrifty Scots Descend on Game Castle

The boys - and most especially Ian - have a preoccupation with savings and the accumulation of merchandise which can be attributed only to their hardy Scottish genes.  Shopping sprees with Ian - at least ones where it is expected that he will pay for his own toys - inevitably involve him carrying a small, pink, plastic piggy bank - literally a little piggy with a slot in the top for "deposits" and a plug in the bottom for "withdrawals".  The piggy goes with us anywhere along the way.  It went to Toys  R Us a few weeks ago, but it seemed so heartbreaking to watch Ian empty his piggy full of nine years of savings - or maybe a few months' worth - on the counter of the Walmart of Toys, that I just paid for it.  But even Daddy can only be so sentimental before he starts expecting Ian to pay for some of his toys with his own money, especially if they involve Pokemon, which I don't really like in the first place.

So the Piggy - some hokey thank-you-for-banking-with-us gift from the Ipwich Savings Bank that Amy likely came across years ago - this piggy travels with us.  Tonight it went first to the video store, and then to Game Castle, for the two stores are part of the same spectacular strip-mall, and it would have been too much work to go back to the car after getting the videos so that Ian could collect his savings for the trip to Game Caste.

But eventually, the Castle beckoned.  I dreaded the entire visit, but Ian quickly established what he wanted (he tends to know these things) and then the Piggy was produced.  I told the owner that it might take us awhile, but luckily, Game Castle is mostly tables - it looks less like a store, and more like a bingo hall for dorky 20/30-something game-preooccupied quasi-Gothic young men.  So the owner encouraged us to have a seat, and within a moment, Ian was lovingly fishing the mostly-pennies-but-some-other-coins out of the piggy.  The owner seemed amused by the whole thing, and a young man from the store, with a classic Celtic red beard and hair and bright eyes and clearly a broad curiosity, observed as the coins rolled out and got sorted.  They noticed the Susan B. Anthony dollar-coins and encouraged us to hold onto them.  The ruddy youth was especially curious about the 10 Ukrainian kopek piece and the Chinese 50-yuan coin, and got some other curious gamers at a nearby table to help calculate the kopeks' bank value (disappointing).  He was even interested in buying them, but I thought Ian might develop some sympathy or curiosity for them in years to come, so we didn't do the side-deal...

It took Ian some time to line up his quarters in piles of four, and his dimes and nickels in meaningful groupings.  As this was taking place, I told the owner I appreciated his sense of humor about the currency and its painstaking inventory.  The bearded, gamey, colorful, eccentric, bearded 40-something-year-old told me that he has to have a sense of humor about this kind of thing; this is his next generation of customers.  Obviously a shrewd merchant.

So finally, Ian handed the man a very large collection of silverish coins, in exchange for an $11 dollar package of super-special Pokemon cards (this is why I didn't bankroll the transaction).  The man counted the money, and handed Ian back a smaller collection of silver - Ian had apparently overpaid.  Shrewd and honest!  (He also hosts a Pokemon tournament every Saturday (yes, every week).  An interesting combination of community-minded and enlightenedly-self-interested...

So Ian bought his Pokemon cards.  As all this money-counting and money-putting-back-into-the-piggy was happening, Daniel paraded off to the aisles and would return with random, bizarre gothic-gamey stuff - you know, the green crystal-shaped dice in a felt blue drawstring little bag - all that kind of thing - often costing something like $33 - and each time, I told him no.  Finally I told him, "Ian is buying the cards with his own money!"  Suddenly Daniel got it; no evening-the-playing-field for the two lads; the "haves" or (former-haves) get game merchandise, in exchange for a somewhat lighter piggy bank, and the have-nots get to stomp out of the store crying and refusing to cross the parking lot and get into the car.  The owner had asked, at the close of the exchange, "Is everybody happy?"  At the time, I said with a good deal of relief and some humor, "Yes!"  But within a minute or two of this response, Daniel, now figuring out that he didn't get to take home some random piece of dungeony plastic, said to me, quite indignantly "Not everybody's happy!"

But everybody got to participate, on some level, in the magic of the marketplace.  The Scottish Adam Smith spoke of the "hidden hand" behind the wonders of capitalism.  I suppose he was writing before the advent of the unhidden Plastic Pig.

(October 6, 2012)