If there’s one thing I see more than anything else in my day-to-day life, it’s money. Well, maybe textbooks first and money second. Nevertheless, almost every day I have thousands upon thousands of dollars running through my fingers. Sounds fun, right?

Not really.

Being able to fan myself with a stack of hundred dollar bills isn’t quite as awesome when they aren’t mine. That’s right folks, I may handle ten grand on any given day but unfortunately I own none of it. How can this be, you ask? Well, I work for a grocery store that believes me responsible enough to accurately count every dollar it makes in a day and bundle it all up into pretty stacks. It’s kind of like being an accountant mixed with a banker, if that accountant/banker was paid ten-times less than most accountants. So what this all means is: no rapper lifestyle for me. Also, Germ-X is my best friend.

There’s one thing that I find fascinating about this job however. Each individual dollar itself. Whether it’s a lowly Washington or a flashy C-Note, each and every bill has something in common:

It’s a Federal crime to write on them.

More specifically, title 18 chapter 17 of the United States Code section 333 states that:

“Whoever mutilates, cuts, defaces, disfigures, or perforates, or unites or cements together, or does any other thing to any bank bill, draft, note, or other evidence of debt issued by any national banking association, or Federal Reserve bank, or the Federal Reserve System, with intent to render such bank bill, draft, note, or other evidence of debt unfit to be reissued, shall be fined under this title or imprisoned not more than six months, or both.”

Geez. And I thought the penalties for littering were bad.

I could talk for hours on title 18, which has to do with every law regarding every criminal activity ever, but that will suffice for now. I mention this law solely because it has to do with the main reason I made this post in the first place, little things I call money memos. What are they exactly? Well, allow me to elucidate with an example.

I’ve collected these little works of art over the past year of working with my company’s cash. And every once in a while, I’ll come upon a piece that tells a story. These stories vary from the sweet and cute to the disturbing and horrifying. This piece could go either way. I can see a mother leaving a sweet note on her son’s lunch money, or a scary, controlling overly-attached girlfriend remind “Robert” constantly of her presence. And who wrote “stop the lies”? Stop the lie that she loves Robert? Something else? A government conspiracy? Who knows? I call these currency enigmas “money memos,” and I know it’s a catchy alliterative term, so feel free to use it in conversation, free of charge.

Each time one of these uniquely vandalized bills passes through my hands, I don’t just see a felony- I see the lives of those who decided a dollar bill was the best way to communicate their message. If you think about it, it’s kind of a weird medium. They’re already filled with text, they’re dark in color and ink doesn’t always show very well, and you don’t have much space to work with. Why choose a dollar? That is what interests me.

Though it may be a crime, these money memos are permanent little missives that get passed around to thousands of people, possibly all over the world. So many have seen them, and so many more will. What determines what a person will write on them? Do they write something with the intention of it being seen by a multitude of people? If that is the case, do they weigh what they’re about to write carefully, knowing that it will be a lasting testament to their mood in that exact moment? Will they write something beautiful? Will they write something hopeful and uplifting, inspiring all who see it?

Or will it be something written in a drunken stupor that caters to our more… base nature?

That, my friends, is the question I will always be in search of an answer for.

One thing is for sure: I don’t think I’ll ever run out of money memos in violation of Title 18, Chapter 17, Section 333 of the US Code. And I hope I never do.