The chick magnet that was my 1984 velcro Men at Work wallet

 

My first wallet was very much like the one pictured above: an all-fabric, velcro-closing affair with the logo of the Australian band Men at Work prominently displayed on one side.

While Men at Work were a very, very big band in, say, the 1982-85 range, they were never a cool band in any sense. Nor, it must be said, were Velcro wallets ever particularly fashionable.

That wallet was an undeniable (almost defiant) confirmation of my dorkiness.

Yet I loved it. I really did.

Besides the fact that it touted my favorite musical group, it also suggested I was grown-up enough to need a wallet. Which, in fairness, I probably did. I would usually have a few bucks to put in it, thanks in part to my dad's continued generosity and in part to my job as a dishwasher at Tizzano's Restaurant.

That job, my first, paid $2.50 an hour. All under the table. Oh, and the owner of the restaurant, Mike, would make you anything you wanted to eat during your breaks.

I didn't have credit cards at the time, of course. And by the time I got my driver's license in November 1985, I had ditched the Men at Work wallet for something in plain black faux leather (i.e., the kind of folding wallet I still carry around today).

So my Velcro treasure keeper was never especially full.

But it was mine, and it told the world about my favorite band, which was good enough for me.

By the way, I took the image at the top of today's post from eBay, where as of this writing you had two choices if you wanted to buy your own vintage Men at Work Velcro wallet. One was going for a reasonable $19.95, while the other was priced at a somewhat overblown $49.96.

All of which goes to show that you can buy absolutely anything on the Internet...even if, by any standard of good judgment, you probably shouldn't.

Five useless things currently in my wallet

(1) Disney-themed credit card with a picture of Tinkerbell on the front: I'm too embarrassed to show this card to any merchant, so I don't. I mean, I don't claim to be Chuck Norris or anything, but I like to salvage a little bit of my manly dignity. For the record, my wife ordered these cards for us. As far as you know.

(2) Vision insurance card: Never mind that it isn't even valid anymore. I see the eye doctor once every 47 years. And I'm not due to go again until 2035. This can be safely thrown out, and I would do just that if I didn't save every single semi-official document and/or card someone issues me. I have Romper Room Fan Club membership cards from the 70s. You think I'm kidding.

(3) Gold Starbucks card: When I go to Starbucks (which is often), I try to appear hip and cool by paying with my smartphone app, rather than the old-fashioned plastic gold card. No one is impressed except me, yet I continue using this app even when the card would probably be easier.

(4) Professional association membership card: I belong to a few clubs and associations specific to my line of work. Each of these organizations issues a membership card, and I never look at it again until it's time to throw it away. There's no use for it at all, other than to make you feel like a valued, dues-paying member. Which you should feel like anyway when you beg your employer to write the check to cover those dues. Staggeringly useless.

(5) $6 in cash: I almost never use cash. That $6 will sit in my wallet for weeks unless a child asks for money to pay some miscellaneous (and possibly fabricated) school fee, or if we go to Jerry's Dari Pride. Jerry's is a landmark ice cream store here in my hometown, and they only take cash. You want Jerry's ice cream, you bring cash. Simple as that. That $6 most likely represents an ice cream cone at some indeterminate point in my future. Unless you want it, in which case let me know and I'll drop it in the mail (the money, not the ice cream cone).