I pulled out my debit card to pay the dishwasher repair man. "I was just thinking about how unreal money is these days. I never see it. The numbers go to my bank..."
"And then they disappear! Magically." The dishwasher repair man laughed.
"I know. The value of money exists only by common consent of society. If we all decided it was worth one hundred times less than it is now... does that make you nervous?"
The question hung in the air as he swiped my card on his portable debit card reader, then typed on the keyboard of his portable computer. At last he glanced at me, blue eyes serious. "Yes."
"Of course then my mortgage would seem smaller." I shrugged.
The corners of his white mustache twitched up. "I guess."
After signing my name for the transfer of my imaginary money, I showed the dishwasher repair man to the front door. "So how long are these dishwasher motors supposed to last? I mean, this is my third dishwasher in six years in this house."
"Oh, the life expectancy for this kind of dishwasher is ten to twelve years."
AH HA HA HA HA HA HA!!!! Who came up with that imaginary number?