The City Needs to Give Me "Real" Money

A week ago I had heard of The Blank Club handing out "black cards" yesterday, so I figured even if I wasn't one to go out often, attending 3 times a year would be worth it since it'd be free with one (and of course, you never know what the future holds). Amy and I were both tired but thought it would be fun owning one and feeling like VIP, so we just rounded up $5 from our laundry collection - I don't get around to a bank much nor do I carry loads of cash on me. Amy parks around the corner and I go stand in a line and wait for about 10 min. I get right up to the front, show my drivers license and hear "$5." I open my hand and the lady gets all defensive. She shoves her metal box shut and motions both hands up and says "Nuh-uh. Get real money. Move along." I felt so humiliated and ticked! What about "United States of America" printed on a coin isn't "real." It wasn't like I was handing 500 pennies or anything for her to count - exact change and dollar coins like those government operations with change spits at you either from transportation services or post office, etc. The bouncer felt for me and tried reassuring that I could go over to a bar around the corner to get change. I just gave up and told Amy the story, and how I felt like a bum trying to get drunk in a club. What-evs. Those moments are what make stories funny in life, so I'll appreciate my embarrassment...