I'd begun to scour the streets for coins. Even when I was riding my bicycle, I would stop to pick up pennies or the occasional nickel or dime. It's not like the coins ever really amounted to anything. But I felt so destitute, I couldn't bear to pass them up.
Just one year earlier, I wouldn't have imagined that I could end up in such dire straits. I'd left my comfortable but unsatisfying job to pursue a one-year graduate program. It looked like a perfect match for my background and a great way to open doors to new career directions. After graduation, I was courted for a plum position and felt sure it would be mine. But the firm ended up hiring someone else.
I was devastated, and desperate. I'd been out of work for months. And now I had a student loan due, on top of New York City rent and all my other expenses. That's when I started to look for coins.
