Went to the grocery store the other day to buy life's staples. Diapers, milk, and Meadow Gold Mint Chocolate Chip ice cream sandwiches. Got to the checkout line only to realize I had no cash.
I hate paying with a check.
"That'll be $24.88 please."
"Uh...okay. Let me just fill out this slip of paper, hand it over, not make eye contact with you in hopes you don't realize it's not a real form of American currency, and I'm broke." And then these 15 year old cashiers who have never seen a checkbook look at you like you just handed them a freshly picked booger. They stare at it, hold it up to the light, call the manager over..."Hey Mark, this guy just handed me this thing, is this a joke?"
Listen. I don't have any money. But maybe if I just fill out this piece of paper that's the same size of real money, I think you will accept it for some reason, and maybe the bank will pay you back.
I love the old ladies who write everything down meticulously in their balance book. Perfect cursive, looks like the diary of a serial killer.
And then, when you write out the total on the second line, make sure you write the tail of the "Y" in "Twenty-four dollars and eighty-eight cents onlyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy" all the way across the entire check. Because we all know that 15 year old zitty faced kid is really a member of the Belgium underground fraud gang who is going to take your check to his grandma's basement, take out a pen, and write, "...eighty-eight cents onlyyyyyyy and 1.4 million dollars." And then you're screwed.
Please, burn your checkbooks.
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