11/03/2026
WHO’S THAT BEA?
Meet Andy, our resident notaphilist, “John Wayne,” and the reason you should let someone check that old bill before spending it on gas-station nachos. A notaphilist studies or collects paper money. You check your cash to see if you can afford lunch. Andy checks it to see if lunch needs to be canceled and the cash needs its own protective housing.
Andy joined in July 2018 and identified himself as an “OG employee.” That’s eight years of experience, institutional knowledge, and knowing exactly which stories should never make it into an employee spotlight. His days involve sorting new purchases and estates, assessing paper money, and managing the grading process. His own description of a typical workday?
“Chaos.”
We gave him three lines. He needed one word. The remaining space was apparently reserved for a statement from his attorney.
Working with collectible currency requires knowledge, precision, and, according to Andy, “magic fingers” and a “soft touch.” Andy. We’re introducing you to collectors. Why does this sound like an ad we’d have to clear from the browser history? We were going to forward that answer to HR, but they left their keys on the desk. The resignation letter just said, “You know why.” To clarify, he means carefully handling delicate paper money. His proudest work includes handling numismatic rarities and helping them reach their next owners. That takes a trained eye, steady hands, and the ability to watch somebody reach toward an old note without immediately yelling, “WHAT’S ON YOUR FINGERS?” He loves working with friends who share his passion for collecting. It’s one of the few workplaces where “Come look at this old piece of paper” can interrupt everyone’s day and nobody feels misled.
Outside work, Andy enjoys clay shooting, concerts, gardening, traveling, and antique tractors, trains, and trucks. Somewhere there’s a farmer saying, “If you can get that piece of s*** out of here, you can have it,” and Andy is having the best day of his life.
We also asked what he does with his free time.
“I have four kids. What free time?”
Fair. We asked about hobbies like this man can sit down without activating a household emergency. His idea of an escape room is a bathroom with a working lock. And even then, there’s a tiny project manager outside asking how much longer he needs.
Around the shop, he says he’s known for his wife’s muffins. Eight years. All that knowledge. All those carefully handled collectibles. And his wife can overthrow his entire professional legacy with a baking tray.
“Andy’s here!”
“Did he bring them?”
He’s the currency specialist. She’s apparently the reason attendance is up.
Then we asked for his unofficial job title.
“Shop Bitch.”
Self-appointed. His handwriting. We would like that entered into the record before HR comes back for their plant. Jimmy used this question to give himself another management title. Andy used it to leave a review.
His choice for an everyday task that could become a dramatic emergency? Opening boxes covered in tape. This man can handle delicate paper money with surgical care, but give him a box somebody sealed like it owes them money and suddenly John Wayne is in a forty-minute hostage negotiation with cardboard. The contents are safe. Nobody’s getting in. Including us.
Andy is happy to answer questions, deliver a funny line, and act in a scripted video. But next to being filmed doing his day-to-day work, he wrote:
“Bad idea.”
Fair. Nothing says blockbuster entertainment like forty minutes of a man examining a bill, followed by the explosive season finale: “Yep. That’s a fold.”
Andy, thank you for the years of dedication, the expertise you share, and the care you bring to your work. Behind every joke is someone who genuinely loves these pieces, understands why they matter, and helps collectors find something they’re proud to own. We’re grateful to have you on this team.
Give Andy some love in the comments. If you’re not sure what to say, “Your wife’s muffins are incredible” should get him to put his phone down and stare across the room.
