At the beginning of every school year, the high school secretary comes looking for two dollars from everyone for the Flower Fund. Someone croaks, the Flower Fund purchases flowers for the funeral. We haven’t used it in years, to my knowledge. (Pretty sure it’s accumulated to something like $500 now. Seriously.)
Five years or so back, she nagged me every time she saw me: “I want my two dollars!” In the hallway, when I stopped by the office, even by occasional email.
Every year since, I let it drag on for about a month purely in homage to Better Off Dead’s paper boy.