The accidental crypto preacher

It’s funny how labels work. I mean, we use them all the time—we label people and situations every day—but it’s a lot more rare to label ourselves. So much so that sometimes you have to hear “the truth” from someone you barely know.

I’m sitting today in my favorite coffee shop, killing some time. This place not only has some awesome pastries, but it also has a special atmosphere that gives me the rest I often need. Sometimes sitting in front of this computer takes a toll, and I need to breathe, you know?

Anyway, I see a potential Hivean from the corner of my eye. After all, I’ve onboarded so many people already while sipping coffee, I figured it would be a good way to top off an otherwise “code only” Sunday.

I introduce myself, of course, begin chatting, and even share the fact that my intention is to pay for the coffee with crypto. That line usually works well.

“You know, you can pay with crypto here, right?”

There’s almost never a day I say that line and the other person doesn’t raise an eyebrow.

“Seriously?”

With the door wide open, as far as I can tell, I begin my spill.

This place takes Bitcoin Lightning and HBD, but I prefer using HBD because Satoshis are meant to be stored, not spent, you know?

“What’s HBD?” (Yet another door opens)

Oh, HBD—it’s a stable token built on Hive, a social media token with a worldwide community and a bunch of apps to interact with. Think of Twitter or Facebook, but people make money.

At that point in the onboarding, I’ve revealed my hand completely. I’m not just a crypto user, I’m a crypto preacher of sorts. My excitement must be showing through my teeth, because almost every single time, people suspect I’m just way too happy talking about magic internet money.

“Are you a developer?”

That question always kicks my butt a little. Because in truth, I can’t call myself such a thing. I can code, but calling yourself a developer means something else entirely. It means you make a living doing this—and at least for now, I’m nowhere near that.

At any rate, right before saying our goodbyes and exchanging numbers so we can continue the talk (and the always necessary guidance one needs to surf these waters), my new onboard asked me if I was only into crypto. If I was a maximalist, or if I had a bank account too.

I wish I could have said I don’t even have a bank account anymore—but that would be a lie. I do have one, and it has ten bucks in it.

As I was explaining this detail, I laughed a bit and confessed my real feelings about banks. Not only do I not care for them—I don’t trust them, and probably never will. When an Ecuadorian bank froze my accounts for a full year over a speeding ticket that wasn’t even mine (wish I was kidding), I got the message loud and clear.