I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

It was reported by NBC news yesterday, that Target will stop taking personal checks in the coming weeks. 

To be honest, I was surprised they were still taking personal checks.  

I write one check every couple of months for companies, that won’t take a credit card, and don’t use Venmo.   For example, the person who plows our driveway, doesn’t take a card.  The person who installed our a/c, didn’t either.  They don’t want to pay the fees.  

But the number of checks I write gets smaller every year.  

The writing of checks brought back a memory from 1982.  

A memory that I’ve thought about over the years.  

Once upon a time, ATM cards didn’t exist.   

As a 16 year old, I didn’t yet have a credit card.  And sometimes, you need cash.  For a date.  Or a ballgame.  Or a trip to the movies.  

I had a job, but my checks were deposited in the bank.  

And the banks weren’t open after work, or on the weekends.  

On summer evenings, when I needed cash, I could go to a convenient store (think 7-11 or Speedway) and they’d cash a check for you.  

Personally, the place I went most often to cash a check was E-Z Way on North Broadway in Georgetown, KY. 

They never said no.  

In fact, the girl that worked there, often commented on how responsible I was.  

Writing checks.  Recording said checks in my register.  Not having them bounce.    

I was fairly responsible. 

Although, I will say, it was possible to write a check on Wednesday, that you wouldn’t have the funds to cover until Friday.  Because the clearing of checks was much, much slower back then.  

That being said, I didn’t bounce checks.  

I’d go in and pull out my check book, and diligently, fill out all the necessary information.  

Then.  

I was given the 20 dollars I was looking for.  It was almost always 20 dollars.  

On one, particular night, the girl, who thought I was responsible, remarked that I signed my name like a girl.  

What she meant was that you could make out all the letters.  I took my time signing my name.

It gave me pride to do so. 

But on this particular night, I was taken aback.  

I handed her my check.  Received my 20 dollars.  

When I got home that night, I began to practice signing my name.  

Faster and faster.  

Less and less legible. 

Till it was finally a J, followed by an F and a scribble.   

That was followed by my crossing the t, that was imaginary at best.  

In the 42 years since, my signature has gotten worse and worse.  

When I have to sign documents, you can see signs of the signature I practiced year and years ago.  But checks, credit card receipts, it’s a scribble.  

All because, 16 year-old gay Jeff, was worried that someone might learn the truth.  

Oh the horror or it all. 

It makes me sad now.