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.
I'd Like to Speak to the Manager!!! 