Money Bags and Lost Opportunities

I have two foolproof system in which I keep my money. One's my 'Every Little Helps' system, and the other is my 'Saving Up For a Rainy Day' system.

Every Little Helps:

I have a camper van money box for my coppers, a huge pink piggy bank for 5p coins, an adorable cow money box for 10p coins, a funky car money box for 20p coins, a classy white piggy bank for 50p coins and a small jigsaw piggy bank for my £2 coins. Notes and £1 coins are kept in my purse at all times. I count them up semi-annually, at the end of June and December.

Saving Up For a Rainy Day:

I have an amazing sheep money box (it's got wool on its body and an amazing face,) which I put £2 in at the end of every week. This came about when I had a £2 raise in pocket money when I turned 16. I figured that I wouldn't miss £2 a week, and as there are around 52 weeks in a year, that should mean £104. It will be counted up annually at the end of December.

As I've said, I count up my 'Every Little Helps' money at the end of June. As I couldn't fit any more 20p pieces in the specified money box, I decided it was time to count them up now. I've bagged up £95 so far, not including coppers. There was £20 in £2 coins, £20 in 50p pieces, £10 in 20p pieces, £10 in 10p pieces and £25 in 5p pieces (which was a shock). Hopefully, by the time I've put all of the money in the bank, the balance will have doubled! In September I should start receiving £60 a fortnight with EMA.

Yesterday was my first time paying money into the bank myself. I went up to Barclay's Llandeilo Branch after my half hour Welsh listening exam, and clutching the pay-in book to my chest, I fired loads of questions at Grandpa. During this scene, one of the main staff members from Gegin Fach y Gwili (an uber tiny, quaint cafe in Llandeilo that I planned on working in over the Summer) watched us. Grandpa said to her "She's never paid money in to the bank before!", to which she replied "How old are you?" Dreading what she'd say next, I quietly said "Sixteen." She said "There's something not right there..." Grandpa continued to embarrass me and then took me to the cafe in question for food. When we walked in, the woman was in the kitchen, and upon seeing me, she smiled and clapped patronisingly. I asked Mother how much, on a scale of one to ten, that damaged my chances of working there. She said eight. Then Dad chirped up and said, "I wouldn't hire you after that!" which means I now have to look for somewhere proper to work.