Who can count how many times between Thanksgiving and Christmas we shuffle, head down in shame, past volunteers donning Santa hats happily ringing their little bells?

Every time I venture into the grocery store, I smile hello, subliminally sending Bell Ringer the message that I’m so sorry, I have no change. But underneath their warm greeting, I’m secretly afraid they’re passing judgment, or cursing the stingy Grinch they think I am.

In all honesty? I don’t carry cash often, if ever, which translates to no change. Seriously. You should see me when I park downtown, chiding myself out loud for not remembering change for the meter.

I get tickets, people, because I have no jingle-jangle.

If I was smart enough to stock up on quarters this time of year, not only would I need not worry about $10 yellow slips tucked under my wipers but I could get through the day without feeling like Happy Bell Ringers have banished me forever to Santa’s naughty list.

Maybe the Salvation Army should look into getting a Visa terminal to replace the little red change box. Just a thought.