Insert “change” pun here
I went to the Mint so that you don’t have to
Aaron Levere, Staff
On the southern edge of town stands the Royal Canadian Mint — a palatial, copper-plated testament to the critical role that Winnipeg continues to play in the world’s economy. Without Winnipeg, Algerians would have no way to plug the meter. Without Winnipeg, people in the United Arab Emirates would go without their vending-machine bag of cheezies. Without Winnipeg, Argentinians would stand in front of shopping mall water fountains, unable to make their wishes heard. Yes, through the Royal Canadian Mint, Winnipeg makes wishes possible for the world’s children (and chips and parking).
The Mint in Winnipeg is one of two in Canada. All Canadian coins in general circulation are made here in our city (the Ottawa Mint makes collectable coins). But the Winnipeg Mint also makes coins for over 60 other countries worldwide including Mexico, Costa Rica, Venezuela, New Zealand, Australia, Antarctica, Nepal, India, the Czech Republic, Israel, Alberta, Papua New Guinea, Bangladesh, Saturn, Tanzania, Spain, Fiji and 43 more. On a good day, our very own money factory produces up to 15 million coins, which are then shipped to the undersides of couch cushions all over the world.
It’s dazzling bits of trivia like these that make you drop everything and head for the Mint on a sunny Friday morning. But beneath its reflective exterior and promise of wishes for the world’s children lies a dark secret. The truth is, the Mint is boring.
For those who grew up in Winnipeg, the fieldtrip to the Mint was a staple. Everyone has been there, probably in grade four. But for those of us whose parents wouldn’t let us live in Winnipeg as kids, the Mint is a quintessential cultural experience that we lack. Since no one had told me that I really wasn’t missing much by not going, I decided that it was time for me to tour the Mint. I went with unreasonably high expectations.
“The Mint experience,” as the brochure reads, is predictably available between the hours of nine and five from Monday to Friday. But the predictability doesn’t stop there! As it turns out, the Mint is actually . . . ready for this? . . . a large factory from the 70s! It is full of machines like the “New Age Indentron,” “the Mazatrol Plus,” and the “Cincinnati Milacron.” There are workers in coveralls and steel-toed boots doing things with the machines. And there is a gift shop. It’s pretty much exactly what you might imagine.
At this time of year, tours are mostly self-guided. You pay a loonie (to the place that makes them) and then you are on your way down a long hallway filled with informational plaques and windows, allowing an uncomfortable surveillance of the shop floor.
The plaques take visitors through the process: coins are punched out of a sheet of steel, cleaned, smoothed, “rimmed” (yes, rimmed, by a “rimmer”), plated with nickel, then copper, then nickel, punched with her majesty’s profile (using 150 tonnes of pressure!), inspected, packed and shipped. Cut this paragraph out and you’ve saved yourself a lot of trouble and a loonie. Plus, the workers at the factory can stop trying to look busy for every tourist that passes through.
The one interesting part, aside from the plaque that lists three reasons for rimming, is the volume of coins that is being produced. Seeing a steady flow of change pouring out of various machines does give a sense of just how much money is out there. So if you are ever sitting around wondering to yourself how many nickels there are in the world, you could go the Mint and get some vague sense of the volume at which they are produced. The sight and sound of thousands of coins popping off the end of some machine is satisfying for quantitiy fethishists.
But one last indication that maybe the Mint is not as exciting as one might imagine: the final plaque of the tour emphasizes the tight security that surrounds the factory’s shipping area, where crates of finished coins sit waiting to be shipped all over the world. Looking through the window, there are stacks of crates and giant sacks of coins — probably millions of dollars in pesos waiting to be shipped — and there in the corner is the lone security guard on the verge of retirement reading a magazine at his desk. Apparently, not even would-be thieves are all that interested in visiting the Mint.
The Mint is open to the public Monday to Friday, 9 - 5.
Minty-fresh facts that will make it seem like you were there:
$ - The first existing coins were used in 650 BC. The King of Lydia called for the production of coins that were imprinted with a royal seal using a hammer.
$ - When the Mint makes coins with a special theme, like the current Terry Fox loonies, the decision is usually made a year in advance. The design is decided according to certain criteria to select coins that “promote Canada and its values and diversity” and that also “take into consideration the coin’s potential commercial success.” The federal government gives final approval to all coin designs.
$ - The only time when all denominations of coins had a theme was for Canada’s centennial. The designs for these coins were created by the renowned painter Alex Colville.
$ - The leaf, beaver, Bluenose and caribou that adorn our coins have been there since 1937.
$ - Some of the copper and nickel used in coin production are mined in Thompson and Flin Flon.
$ - All of the silver-coloured coins in Canada were made of nickel up until 2000. All coins are now made of steel and plated with nickel and copper. Plated coins are marked with a “p” right below the Queen’s image.
$ - According to the staff who were there at the time of my visit, approximately 99 per cent of the people who visit the Mint ask if they give free samples. Other “jokes” that they hear a lot include: “You make a lot of money!,” the one about the Queen on the front with a bear behind, and puns involving “change,” “mint,” and other money-related words.
$ - The Mint sells souvenir tins of mints for people who like those jokes.
