In Zimbabwe, a simple trip to the store can feel like a tug-of-war—not over the price of goods, but over the basic logistics of getting your change back. While the rest of the world may take for granted the ability to pay with a larger note and receive change, in Zimbabwe, that very process has become a daily crisis. A shortage of cash flow—particularly in low denominations like the USD $1 note—has crippled the retail experience and exposed the cracks in an already fragile economy.
When a $10 Note Becomes a Burden
It’s a common situation: a customer walks into a store, picks up a few items totaling $2, and offers a $10 note. In many countries, this wouldn’t raise an eyebrow. But in Zimbabwe, it’s more likely to raise a problem.
“We don’t have change,” the shopkeeper will say, flatly. It’s not a tactic or a brush-off—it’s the truth. With a painfully limited supply of small U.S. dollar notes and coins, many shopkeepers would rather lose the sale than try to find $8 in change. Some have even stopped trying altogether.
This reality has become so normalized that refusing a transaction over lack of change isn’t even surprising anymore. It’s just part of life in Zimbabwe.
The Rise of Forced Upselling
To avoid turning customers away completely, many businesses—from small corner shops to major retail chains like OK Stores, Spar, and Pick n Pay—have resorted to upselling low-value items like mints, sweets, or chewing gum.
Instead of giving you your 50 cents change, they’ll offer you a packet of gum. You didn’t ask for it. You probably don’t want it. But unless you have exact change, you don’t really have a choice.
This workaround, while seemingly minor, highlights a deeper issue: Zimbabwe’s broken cash flow system and the lack of functioning monetary instruments to support everyday commerce.
The False Promise of the ZIG
The Zimbabwean Gold-Backed Currency, known as ZIG, was introduced with the promise of stabilizing the economy and reducing the overreliance on U.S. dollars. Yet on the ground, its perceived value is virtually nonexistent. People do not trust the ZIG enough to accept it as meaningful change, especially in amounts like 50 cents where confidence matters most. In many cases, it’s treated as a token, not as money.
This lack of trust in local currency only deepens dependence on U.S. dollars—which are, ironically, not available in the forms most needed for day-to-day transactions.
KFC Vouchers and the Absurdity of Pricing
Even international chains aren’t immune. Fast food outlets like KFC have adopted their own unique approach: issuing 50-cent vouchers when they can’t provide change. Buy a burger for $5.50 and pay with $10? Don’t expect coins—expect a paper voucher that you can only use at KFC, and only if you remember to bring it back.
A customer recently almost cancelled her order for a Crunch Burger over this very issue. The cashier simply didn’t have change, and the customer didn’t want a voucher. She wanted her money.
Why then, one might ask, do businesses even price items with 50 cent values, knowing they can’t honor that difference in real currency?
It’s an absurd dance—one where both the customer and the business lose.
From the Streets to the Supermarkets—Nobody Is Spared
This problem is not confined to major brands or urban centers. Street vendors face the same dilemma. A single $1 note can be the difference between making a sale and turning a customer away. These are not isolated incidents—they’re daily occurrences across the country.
The irony is painful: businesses desperately need every cent of revenue, yet they routinely reject potential income because they physically can’t provide change.
What Can Be Done?
The solution isn’t simple, but the current status quo is clearly unsustainable. Until the Reserve Bank of Zimbabwe or international partners can ensure adequate supply and distribution of smaller denominations—or fully digitize micro-transactions with trustworthy, stable platforms—this issue will continue to strangle commerce at every level.
In the meantime, Zimbabweans continue to navigate an economy where buying a $2 item with a $10 bill can feel like trying to solve a national crisis.
And perhaps, in many ways, it is.
