The most cash I've ever carriedThere's nothing like carrying large amounts of cash to make yourself feel simultaneously like a lottery winner and an obvious target.
A friend went to buy a car for ten grand, panicked and stuffed it down his pants for safety. It was all a bit smelly by the time he got there and he had to search around for some of it...
Tell us the story behind the most cash you've ever carried.
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chthonic, Thu 22 Jun 2006, 10:39)
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My Dad is a rozzerbut used to be a builder, and still does a few rather large "cash in hand" constructions on his days off.
Now, the filth keep an eye on his bank account to make sure he's not taking large bribes, so the money gets deposited into my spare account, and the old man withdraws that whenever he likes.
So, Im at uni, and the old man phones me up saying "Boy, have you got your spare bank card?"
"Yup."
"Good, cos Ive lost your one, and *reputable builder's merchant* needs paying - can you take out a chunk and settle the bill? It needs to be cash and it needs to be done today."
Now, my university was 150 miles from home, and my transport was a 21 year old Vauxhall Viva. I had to go to my local branch, withdraw as much as they'd let me (10k, as it happens) and then drive to another branch, for another 10k, and then another, and then another. At each one, I get out of the car, and stuff the huge wad into my pockets, for fear that it'll get nicked whilst I park the car.
I then start the 150 mile drive, which takes 3 hours in a Viva, and my legs get sweaty and uncomfortable with the pockets all bulged like that. SO WHAT DO I DO? I put it in the glovebox for the drive home, and when I get to the builder's merchants, walk in to the trade counter, and say, calmly, "I'd like to settle Mr [My Dad]'s account, please."
"Certainly sir, that'll be 40K."
"Discount for cash?"
"Certainly sir, that'll be 38k."
I put my hand in my pocket, and then my face turns ashen. Cue much frantic patting, rummaging and the removal of shoes as I try and work out what I've done with forty large.
The flood of relief when I remember it's in the unlocked glovebox of the shitty car outside with the passenger door that won't lock, in the roughest industrial estate in the area, surrounded by pikey plumbers and chavtastic carpenters, is a heart attack I will never forget.
And my old man let me keep 500 quid of it for remembering to ask for a discount. If he ever gets wind of this, sorry Dad.
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Grrrmachine the indifference engine, Thu 22 Jun 2006, 15:26,
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