I Hate Cash, but I Carry It Anyway


There’s something particularly entitled about choosing not to carry cash. A presumptuousness that the world should work around your own personal desires.”

There’s something particularly entitled about choosing not to carry cash. A presumptuousness that the world should work around your own personal desires.”

But back to my Dad. He’d urge me to put an “emergency twenty” in my wallet, at least. He’d often reach into his back pocket and pull out a twenty dollar bill from his overstuffed billfold and slip it into my slim card case, the kind without much room for a wad of cash. “Now if you use it,” he warned. “Then replace it—you just swing by the ATM.”

Sometimes, that crisp bill would hang in there, unspent, for months. But you know what? The time would eventually come when having cash was damn handy. When I was in a bind, when the store’s card reader wasn’t working or when I wanted to split the bill with a friend and didn’t want to nickel and dime over who owed exactly how much. There’s something really cheap about sending your friend exactly $18.62—and not a penny more—instead of simply handing over a twenty.

Plain and simple, a gentleman carries cash. Why? Because even here in the future, cash is still king. A while back, I upgraded that emergency twenty to a fifty dollar bill. It’s in my wallet at all times. Along with at least a twenty or a ten spot. And I have to say, I’ve got an extra swagger in my step knowing that I’m never without the ability put down money for something I want or need. Call me old fashioned, but I like that feeling. It’s a tad brutish, I’ll admit. But it’s an undeniable confidence booster.





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