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This is a question The most cash I've ever carried

There'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.

(, Thu 22 Jun 2006, 10:39)
Pages: Popular, 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1

This question is now closed.

Last week...
...I went out with a big wad of Euros to buy eleven French impressionist paintings that I'd wanted for a long time. Afterwards, I noticed I had just 0.1 Euros left, but then I reflected that at least I had more Monet than cents.
(, Sat 24 Jun 2006, 7:48, Reply)
Not a penny. Ever.
(, Tue 27 Jun 2006, 11:02, Reply)
Actually, it's funny you should ask about large sums of cash
as my late employer, Dr Adada Muhammadu, had received TWENTY-FIVE MILLION US DOLLARS in cash shortly before the US invasion of Iraq. He was accidentally killed in fighting last year and since then I have been the sole custodian of this money, every one of Dr Muhammadu's relatives having died five years ago in a bizarre tangerine-hurling accident. I now need urgently to move this money our of Iraq and know that you, trusted sir (or madam), will be able to help in return for 50% of the money. Please send me your contact details urgently, but keep this in absolute confidence until the transaction is complete.

With blessings on your doughnuts,

Dr Olembe Olembe, Baghdad.
(, Sat 24 Jun 2006, 10:49, Reply)
During the 1950's I worked as a rent boy in the American South.
A number of then up and coming country singers were my 'clients'.

During this time the most Cash I handled was about 8 inches.
(, Wed 28 Jun 2006, 21:45, Reply)
oh and...
my dad, who was a director for natwest, made me work for him to earn school holiday money.

this was in stockport. where the majority of the chavscum in the town centre are not that nice but really are that dim.

one day i was in the lobby and i was allowed to help the nice man from the cash van fill up the hole in the wall machine. we were messing around doing something to the back of it inside the branch. cue a large woman in a purple shellsuit - ok, i couldn't see her through the wall, but after 6 months working in stockport i could picture her all too clearly - trying to force her card in whilst the machine was clearly out of action.

"hang on a minute love," the annoyed cash man shouted through the wall.

"ooooooooh," the braindead woman yelled, backing away. "it speaks!"

the cash man and i dissolved. then he called,

"yes, i won't be a minute darling. just getting filled up."

"it talks to you!!!" the woman was yelling by this point. to anyone who would listen.

i mean, did she really really think that was a pre-recorded - oh, it makes my head hurt!
(, Mon 26 Jun 2006, 15:25, Reply)
Eighty seven pounds and forty two pence
I had not long turned six and was counting up my birthday money. That year my relatives had decided not to waste their money on silly items that I would never use, and had all given me some money, which all amounted to the nice sum of £87.42.

With all this money, I decided that what I really wanted was a nice stereo. So, my mum takes me down to Commet and we have a look around.

Then I see it. The stereo that I wanted. Needed. It was tall, black and shiny. The edges were sleek and it had big shining buttons on the front. We get it and go to the counter to pay. I take my £87.42, which I had been clinging tightly to, out of my dungarees pocket but unfortunately, being only six, I was too small to reach the counter top. So my mum says she will pay. The transaction is completed nicely and I take home my brand new shiny stereo and still have £2.43 left over.

However, a week later as I'm struggling to take my sparkling stereo upstairs to my bedroom, from the living room where it had for some reason been placed when we got home, my mum stops me,
"What are you doing with that stereo?"
"I'm taking it to my bedroom."
"Because it's mine and I want to listen to it in my bedroom."
"Is it yours?"
"Yes I paid for it with my birthday money."
"It cost a lot of money, I don't think you did pay for it. I gave the man all that money, didn't I."

It stayed in the living room and I was most upset. My mum still claims that she paid for it, but I'll never forget what really happened,and when the time comes, I'm going to pick out the most hideous nursing home . . .
(, Fri 23 Jun 2006, 10:00, Reply)
Midget butt cheeks
The largest amount of cash I have withdrawn was £1000 to buy a second hand computer.

I handed over my passport to the cashier as ID, and out fell a playing card which my flatmate had thoughtfully hidden inside. It was the six of diamonds, and the picture on it was of a grinning naked midget, looking over his shoulder and spreading his butt cheeks. There was also a hand written note saying "I am a ginger nobbler".

The hysterical cashier called at least 4 of his colleagues away from their customers to come and have a look. The computer I bought broke after a month and the vendor couldn't be traced. My flatmate remains unrepentant.
(, Mon 26 Jun 2006, 14:26, Reply)
I once worked on a project in a pre-dominantly African American section of Miami, Florida, that required paying quite a large number of workers, to the tune of $100 each worker, in one single day. (That's about 5,000 people, give or take a few hundred for surprises.) As the payroll person where I'd worked, I had no problem handling accounts in the six-digit range, but I wasn't quite prepared for what upper management had planned for us at the last minute: instead of writing checks, the perfectly sane way of going about this, we would be lining up our workers at the end of the day and handing out thousands of envelopes with 100-dollar bills in each of them... In the Miami ghetto. I'm sure the idea made sense to them for some reason unbeknownst to me. To me though, the order came down like a death sentence.

Two days later I was sitting in my "secure location"... my kitchen... with half a million fresh-scented, milky-green U.S. dollars in $100 and $20 denominations in my lap. The money, when stacked, filled two milk crates, but all we could find to keep it in was beat up cardboard boxes. It was right after noon on a hot Florida day, and my boss had just brought it over from the bank; when it came through the door, it felt like some otherworldly presence had just entered, like your favorite band coming onstage, or the Pope Himself coming to speak to you. But with it came a very ominous feeling of danger.

I was by myself in my apartment, save for the three corn-rowed, humongous security guards that surrounded me, whom we'd hired from a less-than-reputable agency. The night before, under their watch, 8 fifteen-passenger vans we'd rented for the project were stolen. Well, 9 technically, if you count the one that was totalled. (The thieves used it to punch a hole in the cement wall of the lot where they were being kept, so that they could drive off with the other 8.)

We should have gone with off-duty cops, I kept thinking. These guys were salivating over the mountains of cash on my kitchen table. I laughed to myself upon seeing one of them literally licking his lips with his eyes locked on the cash... but not a real laugh. After what felt like days my boss came by and, after noticing the same thing, sent them elsewhere. He did bring my all 120 pounds of his wife though, to help me count the cash, and then left to take care of other things. But now, my apartment was no longer a secret. Fortunately, the state of Florida allows for the purchase and sale of machine guns, so I spent the rest of the day stuffing wads of cash into envelopes with my roommate's Chinese AK-47 pointed at the front door.

After it was all counted and stuffed, it was picked up for delivery to several different sites around the South Florida. I wasn't there to see it, but I was told that the carefully-formed lines of workers, upon realizing that payment was in cash, disintegrated quickly into an impatient mob, as predicted. There were gunshots and muggings and co-workers running for their lives. Don't you love decisions from the top?

Later that night though, there was still tens of thousands of dollars left over, from workers that never showed up. My girlfriend and I re-enacted Indecent Proposal.
(, Fri 23 Jun 2006, 7:10, Reply)
This will be a bit long....

I used to work in a computer store as my normal job and I worked a cook for a Veggie Burger stall at weekends. It was therapeutic for me getting away from computers and working at various gigs and festivals around the country. A complete change from my normal life and a great laugh. The biggest festival we did was Glastonbury and, for that, I'd take a week off work.

This one year - early 90's - we setoff for a weeks trading. There was about 8 of us. Two blokes and 6 girls including the owner, Janet, AKA Miss Piggy. We had a great festival and made an absolute shitload of money but this year there was a fair amount of violence. The New Age Travellers AKA crusties had gatecrashed the festival and set-up their own camp which they used as a base to go around robbing peoples tents and, to add to an already dangerous mix, the security that year was provided by gangs from the St Paul's area of Bristol. These "guards" were basically drug-dealing thugs who loved throwing their weight around. Not nice people.

Anyway, the festival went pretty well albeit with an underlying edge of menace but we were in the traders encampment and help was only a yell away. The traders stuck together - start trouble with one and everyone pitched in to help out whoever was getting grief. So we had a pretty successful week and we had around 30K in cash in the stall. The money was divided between me and Brummie mate called Andy apart from a few hundred in coins that was kept in what we called the shrapnel bucket. Getting offsite to bank was impossible so we were stuck with this cash until we could leave on the Tuesday when most of the punters would be gone.

So the final Sunday night of Glastonbury finished and we worked all night serving shite veggie food to the starving stoned masses and finally shut-up shop late Monday afternoon. A few hours sleep and then it was time for the Traders Party. Our turn to relax and get fucked out of our brains on alcohol and dope. We had a blast but were all absolutely knackered after the weeks trading and most of us were destined for an early night - but that didn't happen.

All of a sudden the jungle drums told us of a riot in the Crusties field. They were taking on the gangs from Bristol (security) and a lot of people were getting badly hurt. More info came in. It seemed that the security guys had found a young crusty scavenging in one of the skips and given him a severe beating - bad enough to put him in hospital. Crusties were livid and were attacking any and all security guards on sight. Security retaliated by sending about 20 Land Rovers full of security guards up to the crusties encampment and now a full scale riot was underway.

Looking up the hill we could see this battle in the distance and it was slowly getting coming towards us as the crusties beat the security guards back. Land rovers started coming past us full of bleeding men and the odd rock was landing near our tents. This was getting scary!

Then Janet, a trippy-hippy New Ager had a bright idea.

"Lets all join hands and think thoughts of love and protection. Imagine a dome covering all of us and we'll be safe" she beamed..

Me and Andy looked at each other and grabbed a machete each and a big fuck-me knife. We were the ones with 15 grand each around our waists and I'd rather rely on meanness than Janet's "Dome Of Protection" - fucking hippies!

As the fighting drew nearer and we were starting to get very seriously worried - a few knots of fighters had already went past us without bothering us but the main riot was very close now. And then a few crusties who we recognised (we'd given them some free food in return for doing water runs for us) dashed up.

"Hey - put the knives down man and don't panic. We're not going to touch you. We're only after those black bastards" he said pointing to the battered security guards "You've been cool with us - you're safe"

Our new found protectors stayed with us for the next hour telling us what had happened and why while the riot swept past us. And then it was over. A convoy of crusties in the Land Rovers they'd stolen form the guards slowly drove past us and peace finally fell over the site.

Exhausted, we all headed for our tents and crashed. I awoke around dawn - something wasn't right. I crawled out of my tent and looked out over the festival site. The whole place was wreathed in pre-dawn mist and walking slowly towards me, totally silent, was a long,long line of policemen in full riot gear. They stepped around our encampment and continued up the hill looking for all the world like some weird science-fiction movie.

Bloody good weekend all in all.

(, Thu 22 Jun 2006, 12:54, Reply)
The most amount of Cash I will ever carry is $15,000,000.00.
It was pure chance, destiny, star alignment, call it what you will. I was there one dull overcast Monday morning opening my email, and there I saw it, an offer I couldn't refuse. Albert Fred from Nigeria had gone through so much. He opened up to me as if he'd known me forever. He knew I was trustworthy, but when I pushed him on this he wouldn't say how he knew. Not only had his Sister, Aunt and Cousins been killed in a terrible Air Crash but his Mother and father two months ago had dropped dead. This man still found it in him to write to me amidst all his emotional trauma. What bad luck could bestow one individual. Now he was alone in Nigeria, with no family and none he trusted. The least I could do for him was to set up an Off Shore account and pretend to The Central Nigerian Bank to be a distant relative so that he could get hold of his inheritance. .Another coincidence was that Albert worked In The Central Nigerian Bank. I only found this out when I compared the Email addresses. Bless him, he wasn't going to tell me, I think he was embarrassed. Considering he had an education his punctuation and pigeon English was dismal. I looked up ticket cost on priceline.com for a round-trip flight from London to Nigeria. I really thought I could do with a holiday, and combining a bit of business would be fun.

So, 30% for me and 60% to him with 10% VAT. Trouble is I hadn't reckoned on the cost of all the legal documents amounting too $4000.00 up front. We swapped photos. Albert, I must say looked a bit of a catch. If he could lend me the $4000.00 for the legalities I would doubly pay him back when I had the $4.5 million.

So far Albert has stalled on this arrangement.

Albert I'm sure will apologise for length.
(, Wed 28 Jun 2006, 9:25, Reply)
First Car
The deposit on my first car was £2000. Paying it by debit card seemed wrong. I felt handing over a wad of £2000 was the right thing to do.

Rather than getting £200 a day from the ATM until I had the £2000. I telephoned the bank HQ and had to give them a password. I then could go into the local branch collect the readies.

For some reason they wouldn't let me use "Robbery" as a password.
(, Thu 22 Jun 2006, 11:46, Reply)
When I was younger my parents took my brother and me to Blackpool,
one day when scrambling along the beach, my brother and I found a twenty pound note. We promtly ran off to the arcade and exchanged it for 1,000 two pence pieces. We hadn't been playing the machines long when we hit the jackpot, a fountain of two penny pieces flooded from the little machine. Ecstatic, we couldn't believe our good fortune and shovelled the coins into our pockets. We felt like billionaires as we wandered back to our hotel, big grins plastered on out faces and our trousers falling down from the weight in our pockets.
(, Sat 24 Jun 2006, 0:14, Reply)
Not me, but a friend who lived out in Japan at the same time as me, decided to go to a pachinko parlour with some of her mates. A panchinko parlour is filled with machines that are kind of a cross between a fruit machine and a pinball machine and they are filled with ball bearings.

Despite having no idea what she was doing and also having consumed one too many Asahi beers, she managed to win about £700 on a pachinko machine and stumbled haphazardly over to the prize counter to exchange her loot.

Given that it is illegal to give out cash prizes in Japan what they do instead is give you a random gift which you then take outside to the carpark where some friendly local yakuza gangsters who run the parlours will then swap your crappy gift for real yen.

Under the jealous eyes of the other pachinko players she handed over her overflowing plastic container of ball bearings and waited expectantly for whatever might appear. She was very excited when the woman from behind the counter gave her a box of chocolates - fantastic, she thought, and started greedily eating all of them, the alchol from earlier making her very hungry indeed. Given that it was quite a small box of chocolate, each suculent bit was costing her about £50.

Luckily, instead of ending up being the most expensive crappy box of chocolates ever, one of the friendly yakuza guys shooed her out into the carpark and gave her the money anyway. They let her keep the rest of the choccies (there was only a couple left by then anyway) and even gave her another box because they found her so amusing. Result!
(, Fri 23 Jun 2006, 12:48, Reply)
Not me but....
... there's a bird outside my office window with about 2 inches of arse-crack visible over her low-slung levi hipsters!!!
And she's pretty fit too....
(, Tue 27 Jun 2006, 12:40, Reply)
Very nearly on-topic
I work in an office which I share with the secretary, the boss and the other web designer. Their conversation is rarely anything less than filthy, whilst I am a paragon of taste and virtue, rising above their endless innuendo.

One day the secretary was dealing with a huge pile of banknotes, running into the thousands. She was clearly excited about this.
"What's the most you've ever had in your hand?" she asked the office in general.

"My cock", I accidentally replied.
(, Thu 22 Jun 2006, 13:33, Reply)
I work in a leisure centre.
We're quite a busy little centre and make around 10 grand a week, plus yearly gym memberships and the like.
Anyways, the safe where all this lovely money is kept, until the nice securicor people come and take it away, is in the staff office, the equivilent of a staff room for us.
One day i was loafing about in the office when our DM (Duty Manager)comes in, says hello, and unlocks the safe and starts counting the money (they do this quite regularly)being the nice kind bloke that i am i offer to help him out and he gratefully accepts.
All goes well for a bit, we've reached the grand sum of £6200 with some to go, then he receives a message on his walky talkie...
"Alex? you there mate? theres a load of chavs kicking aorund the car park, go get rid of 'em will ya"
Without so much as locking up the safe again Alex walks out and leaves me with all the money and the keys to our safe.
In a moment of childish glee i literally started rolling around the floor going "moneeeey moooooneeeey" only to roll onto my back and stare straight up at Alex, whos come back in beacuse he wanted to lock the safe.
"Having fun?" he asks.
"er... yeah..."

Needless to say he tends not to leave me on my own anymore, especially in the office...

(, Mon 26 Jun 2006, 19:39, Reply)
Only around £1,500 cash but
Did once hold over $20,000,000 of kit in my hands, before rendering it totally worthless.

To explain, when computer processors are made they are built on circular ‘wafers’, usually around the size of a large dinner plate and the thickness of a tuppence. They have to be prepared in totally sterile conditions because the circuitry is so small and unprotected that a single grain of dust could cause a short circuit of sorts.

They’re prepared in a clean room where you have to wear an all over noddy suit to get in, think Intel Bunnies. We weren’t allowed in that bit but did get to go into the not so clean section where you have to be covered up. After delicately being handed a wafer of ultra-high end processors I was told that when they were finished they’d be worth millions.

Dickhead that I am I wanted a closer look and the goggles they have given us had steamed up. So I flicked them up to see properly and a drop of sweat and at least one eyelash fluttered down. Cue angry screeching from the handler and being bundled out from the facility.

Began seeing a lifetime of selling my body to strangers to make up the damages stretching out before me but thankfully the engineers weren’t too pissed off. Turns out the wafer was flawed anyway – “We wouldn’t let you clumsy assholes near the good stuff” was his (correct) response.
(, Mon 26 Jun 2006, 13:35, Reply)
My best friend's dad used to be a big cheese in The Midland bank when they got taken over by HSBC about 20-years ago.

The Midland had in excess of £800m of bearer bonds (like cash, only in much bigger denominations) that needed shifting from their vaults across the city to the HSBC. The various security companies quoted £1m+ for the job, so 4 directors of the Midland filled Tesco carrier bags and walked them the half-mile between the two vaults. Dave reckoned he had £200m in a Tesco bag and a cheese & pickle sandwich in the briefcase he was also carrying - the thinking being if he got mugged, they'd probably take the briefcase rather than his "shopping".

Needless to say, he told us this story the evening after it happened, rather than before...

My personal best : A paltry £4k in fifties - it's not as fat a roll as you'd think.
(, Fri 23 Jun 2006, 16:46, Reply)
$150 million
I once drove a truck containing $150 million!

...I was working for a printer and it was a delivery of fake money for a board game company, BUT THAT'S NOT THE POINT!
(, Fri 23 Jun 2006, 3:35, Reply)
All of it!
Once I went to Australia:

/ teh \
| werld |
| |
\ /
0 <--Me

As you can see, I was clearly carrying the entire world, and thus all the money!
(, Thu 22 Jun 2006, 16:23, Reply)
About ten years ago I was a lowly Bell-Boy for one of London's top hotels.

Part of the job was to run random errands for clients accross the City, picking up shopping, dropping off dry cleaning or running documrets to offices etc. Basically we were low paid lackey's for anyone who stayed there.

One day I was asked if I could take a plain brown envelope, nothing extraodinary looking, by cab to an office over in the City, ask the cabbie to wait get a confirmation receipt and return. Apparently there'd be a nice tip in it for me...

So I did what was asked, came back and dropped off the receipt. When i returned my boss was grinning slyly at me and asked if i wanted to know what was in the envelope? @Not bothered' I replied - as said it didn't look anything special.

'You sure?'

'Ok, what is it, now I'm intrigued...'

'£2.6 million in transferable broker bonds'.

It took me 5 minutes to pick my arsehole off the floor...

And my tip? £3.
(, Thu 22 Jun 2006, 11:59, Reply)
If I were a rich man....
Just after the Berlin wall came down, I went on a trip to Poland to stay in Zakopane in the Tatra mountains. In those days, you needed a visa to get in and out and the whole population of Krakow hadn't moved to West London. The currency was Zloti (I think) and you couldn't get it outside Poland and it was forbidden to take the currency out of country.

We got to the Polish border through east Germany (surreal experience eating McDonalds in dresden still charred from WWII bombs and communist mosaics still on the walls of the town square. A huge stretch limo nearly ran over an old guy about 80 with no shoes pulling a hand cart full of fire wood. It was mental). These two women at the border control who looked like really bad drag acts in hideous 70's looking night club gear changed our money for us. We had no idea how much to get so we all changed £200 each (there were 6 of us). One alligator wrestler had to go and get some more money from the safe and they took ages counting out the cash. We were eventually handed, no lie, a pile of notes each you could not stretch your hands round. i think there were 40,000 Zloti to the pound so we each had 8,000,000 each.

We got to the hotel and went out for some food. We soon realised our currency made us very very conspicuous in a small town. The smallest notes we had were 50,000 Zloti probably a weeks wages for the people who worked in the shops we were trying to spend it in and they could not change notes that size.

One very uncomfortable moment was in a bar when we tried to pay to leave. For 6 people with starters, main courses and lots of booze the bill came to about 8,000 Zloti. They could not change the 100,000 note I had so I said "OK, keep the change" it was about £2.50 worth. The bar maid was under the impression I was offering her cash for favours and the locals got quite uptight about it. We bought the whole bar a bottle of vodka each (cost me £3.00) and legged it.

Soon the whole village knew who we were and we bought everyone drinks. We had soooo many friends for the rest of our holiday.

So, I was a millionaire for about 2 weeks!
(, Thu 22 Jun 2006, 19:04, Reply)
About $2'000'000'000
That's two thousand million dollars, or two billion in the American language.

I used to work for a corporate finance and security printer in the City of London. When one company buys another, they sometimes make their purchase with "cash", in the form of bearer bonds.

So the price which company "A" paid for company "B" was $2'000'000'000 and I had to deliver the bearer bond for that amount.

It says on the front of a bearer bond: "I promise to pay the bearer on demand the sum of..." just as it does on a bank note. Technically then, I could've walked into a bank and cashed it.
(, Thu 22 Jun 2006, 15:23, Reply)
My Dad is a rozzer
but 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?"
"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.
(, Thu 22 Jun 2006, 15:26, Reply)
Snotty bugger
About ten years ago, when I'd just moved to Newcastle, I got my first wages from my new job. Since I didn't have a credit card or cheque book yet I got the whole wad in cash, about 1100 quid. I'd also discovered partying and needed a new wardrobe - and there were plenty of nice shops to blow it in. First on my list of purchases was a nice suit so I headed off to a snappy looking shop in the centre where the shop-assistant ('cos that what he was really, no matter what he thought) was an extremely well (if conservatively) dressed man, about 45 or so. They had the usual Boss, Armani and whatever so I started browsing.

I should mention that I had just got out of work and had been working on a new machine, so I was in rather dusty jeans and a t-shirt. Didn't bother me - I was there to get something better, right?

No chance! He took one look at me and said, and I'll never forget this, "The items in the back may be of a more suitable tariff, sir."
I had a moment of surprise, followed by one of disgust. How dare he! Luckily these were both eclipsed by the sheer joy of pulling out a fat wad of notes and doing a Pretty Woman. Lovely.

Don't recall having a witty one liner though - too annoyed, I reckon. I'm pretty sure I thought of plenty thirty seconds later but that's usually the way.
(, Mon 26 Jun 2006, 22:46, Reply)
More Cash
if we are talking my own money...

I inherited a good amonut of hard cash when I was 21 but it took ages to get a hold of; red tape.

On a night out about 12 weeks after my birthday, I had been getting the rounds in, like everyone else, and by 11.45 was a bit skint so as we were all heading off to another pub I stopped off at the cash machine.
As it turned midnight, I pressed "mini statement" and was pleasantly surprised to read I had £42,015.15 in my account. [The £15.15 was what was in there before midnight.]

We got trollied that night.

Still got the wee slip of paper.
(, Thu 22 Jun 2006, 14:43, Reply)
Poker Courtesy of Blockbuster
When I was a student I worked part time in a huge Blockbuster video store. During our breaks we would either play football in the massive half empty store room or sit in the manager's office and have a chat.

During one break, me and my fellow break-ee noticed that the manager had left the safe open and there was about 10 grand in cash in there.

As responsible employees we decided that we should play poker with it. To us impoverished students it felt like millions. Raising my mate a grand and whopping a wad of tenners on the desk was pretty cool.

When the manager walked in he was none too pleased.
(, Thu 22 Jun 2006, 11:48, Reply)
The largest ammount of cash I've held was around £53 Million or so in Tonbridge when we stol..................wait.......
(, Wed 28 Jun 2006, 2:01, Reply)
After being out one night I went to a lock-in at a pub where my friend was the only bar staff for the night.

I went to microwave some Doritos, as you do, and found they were using the microwave as a safe and there was hundreds of pounds in bundles of notes in there.

I had to balance the bundles in my drunken arms whilst proceeding to burn the Doritos, almost set off the fire alarm, before chucking all the bundles back in the 'safe'.

Incidently I dropped the plate of Doritos on the floor, so my efforts were in vain :(

Good times, good times.
(, Wed 28 Jun 2006, 1:43, Reply)
A while back
I worked for a truly loopy man in East Grinstead, surveying his house and drawing up plans for replacing part of it. It was a big, old country house. He did tours for coach parties.

He paid me out of the change he got from the tours. £100 a week, in small change, in a sock. Yes. A sock.

Ok, so not the most money I've ever carried, but great fun to go down to the pub with. He used to make me give the sock back too.
(, Tue 27 Jun 2006, 20:32, Reply)

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