Not in hand, at end of fingerips...
When a new global computer system was installed into our factories a few years ago, I was one of the saps plucked from their current jobs and trained to train others in the system, so I have access and a general knowledge to all parts of the system. Part of that was involved in buying 500t loads of fishmeal, so my buying limit is £999,999.
I can:
Create items
Create suppliers and their accounts
Order items
Book in said items
Stock control on said items
OK supplier invoices

So, steal a million, take in some world scenery for a couple of years, stash a bit, come home for about 5 years jail time, reduced for good behaviour?
(Darth Thump, Thu 22 Jun 2006, 14:13, Reply)

35 grand
as a lowly 18 year old accounts trainee for a company selling porsches. some bloke walked in with 35 grand and walked out with a car, no Q's asked apparently.
( harryfreeze Ignore, Hide, I like this!, Reply, Thu 22 Jun 2006, 14:11, Reply)

Well, there was this one time
I was "on holiday" in Italy, and a bunch of mates and I robbed this security truck and drove off in a bunch of shitty little cars. Suffice to say karma wreaked its revenge and we got stuck on the edge of a cliff. But for that brief time. I was fucking loaded.

EDIT: Some fuckers ripped off my story too! With Mark bloody Wahlberg!
(LickOutTheJamsMotherfuckers!, Thu 22 Jun 2006, 14:03, Reply)

i think the word is "naïve"
I'd say I was probably 8 years old at the time. I was just about to start my 2nd year of piano lessons. My dad gave me £250 upfront to give to the piano tutor and said "just keep that in your pocket, don't touch it until you see Mr Rolfe."

So what did I do? In my 8 year-old mind I thought I would look *really cool* if people knew that I had so much money on me. So before I went to the piano tutor, I popped up to the high street. The high street in Manor Park, East Ham. The high street I wouldn't dare walk down now, aged 27.

Picture the scene. An 8-year old boy looking pleased as punch walking down a busy, dangerous, chav-filled high street, counting a great big wad of £20 notes.

Miraculously nothing happened, other than that I was slightly late for my piano lesson. I can only assume that all the East Ham scum actually looked at me and thought, "wow, that kid's really cool. I want to be like him!"
(Confused, would we? doesn't know what time it is at, Thu 22 Jun 2006, 14:00, Reply)

I work for a Swiss Bank...
...Nazi gold do I hear you ask?

The system I am working on is the 3rd largest US Dollar clearinghouse in the world, about $100 billion goes through it every day... and no, I haven't figured out how to divert funds like in Superman III.
(ColdLazarus, Thu 22 Jun 2006, 13:59, Reply)

Just a nipper
I took £300 out of my Post Office Savings Account at a young age. I laid the tenners out nearly on the floor in a grid...

...and rolled in it.
(BourbonBiscuits, Thu 22 Jun 2006, 13:47, Reply)

A little bit over 100k
105,000 to be more accurate

Shame it was in Japanese Yen 'tis about £500 in proper money
( Terry Oblong There's nobody here but us chickens on, Thu 22 Jun 2006, 13:43, 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.
(costas, Thu 22 Jun 2006, 13:33, Reply)

Our old bank (lloyds)
were incredibly slow transferring money.

Being on benefits, we were often only getting the money into our account the day it was supposed to arrive in the landlords bank.

So on a regular basis, I'd have to cancel the standing order, then on rent-day, take the money out from the branch at the bottom end of torquay, and walk up to the Landlords bank at the top, and pay it in over the counter.

I was always terrified that I'd drop the envelope with £750 in it, but nothing exciting happened ever. Sorry about that. I probably looked too poor to have more than 50p on me.
(teasus likes tea, Thu 22 Jun 2006, 13:29, Reply)

Looking forward to the big pay day
When I was about 15 I was looking for a part-time job. My uncle, kind man that he is, offers me 20 a day to work for two weeks in the half-term, as a general 'carrying stuff' bloke (he's a landscape gardener). I only worked week days, so was expecting 10*20=£200.

It worked out at about £2.50 an hour, and I thought it was great.

Come the last Friday, he told me to go around to his house after work. I drag me aching body to his house, and I bring a football pump to protect myself with (I didn't have a baseball bat, but it was a huge amount of money, and I needed to protect myself).

He gave me four shiny 50p pieces.

Next week, let's have "have you ever beaten a relative over the head with a football pump", as QOTW.
(Darrage, Thu 22 Jun 2006, 13:28, Reply)

Assets!
A property asset I inherited some years ago (I think I was 11. Did you own propery aged 11?) was recently sold and my share liquidated. So although I wont be carrying cash, I will be VERY careful with the cheque for tens of thousands of pounds on the way to the bank. Knowing me I'd accidentally drop it down a drain or something. Stay tuned for furter updates, since now I've said that it is written in fate that thats exactly what will happen!
(Stu Moo winner of five nobble piece prizes, Thu 22 Jun 2006, 13:28, Reply)

oh the number of times
I have pressed the '1' button twice to find myself going to the pub with 110 pounds....
(destrasinistra, Thu 22 Jun 2006, 13:28, Reply)

Gambling
When Frankie Dettori was riding the 1st of his 7 winners through the card a few ago, th elarge bookies I worked fir decided it might be wise to go and lay off as much as we could on track. So they picked the 3 most trustworthy people ith fast cars, and our brief was to take the cash they were about to give us and get on at as many bookies on track as we could.

Our director gives us a envelope each, about 4 inches thick.

"There's £20 grand a piece there. Get as much on multiples on Frankie's mounts through the race card as you can"

It's all f'ing £50 notes!! I cram as much in my pockets as I can and off to the track we go.

I got to the track in time for the 2nd race, and managed to get £4k on the 1st. Which left me with £30k in my pocket.

I got another £18k on with the bookies, then went back to work.

It saved our company about 1/2 a million in the end...
(gjb006, Thu 22 Jun 2006, 13:26, Reply)

Money
I once took monopoly to my mates- so i reckon thats a good few hundred thou/million?

In reality though- er about £300
(Keyser Soze, Thu 22 Jun 2006, 13:13, Reply)

Ah, bless!
When I worked for an estate agents (I wasn't actually one, I just did their admin) 3 young lads, recent graduates, had a flat rented for them in London - by their mums I think - so they could seek their fortune in the big city. On moving-in day, they had to turn up at our office with a banker's draft for their deposit before they could get the keys. One of them got to the bank, found out said draft would cost him a tenner, and got out the cash instead. So he jumps on the train from Melton Mowbray or Leamington Spa or Harrogate or whichever 'nice' town his mum's house was in, heads down to London and arrives at Kings Cross. He took one look around him and decided he didn't dare go anywhere in the big city with that amount of cash on him - so got a taxi which ended up costing him twice the cost of the banker's draft. Bless! The fool...
(Hermioninny, Thu 22 Jun 2006, 13:09, Reply)

Kinda unrelated
As a kid,Id reached the age where Id just started getting pocket money,and some relative gave me five whole pounds,in coins,which i was so goddam exited about!

I was off to the seaside with my Nan and Grandad,so,in my 6yr old mind,i decided the best idea was to put all 5 coins in my shoes.

When i took them out again a bit later,my feet were covered in what my Nan sensitively called 'blackmans pinches'. Lovely.
(Miharu, Thu 22 Jun 2006, 13:06, Reply)

Bloody cashpoints
Several years ago (1999 or so?), in the dark Cambridgeshire countryside in winter. I'm a poor student in a little country pub and I'm out of beer tokens, and they don't take cards. I shuffle down the road to the local petrol station to get a tenner from the cashpoint.

All fine until the cashpoint asks me "Do you want a receipt for this transaction?". I press the button next to the 'No' on the screen, but it's cold and my hand spasms slightly and I end up hitting it twice, which confirms an option on the next screen before I had a chance to read it.

I find out what the option I picked was pretty soon, as the machine spits out £400 (pretty much all my savings) into my hands.

I trudge back up the road absolutely terrified that my blissful record of never being mugged despite growing up in one of the rougher areas of London, will come to an end that night on that cold Cambridgeshire country lane, despite no-one being around. Thankfully it didn't, though that night I slept with the cash in my pants for safe keeping.
(qwghlm, Thu 22 Jun 2006, 12:58, Reply)

Glastonbury
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.

Cheers
( Legless Mister Stabby - shanks for the memory, Thu 22 Jun 2006, 12:54, Reply)

Going up in the world
First year university, and I nervously took £1050 (mostly from the insurance on a lovely birthday present that was stolen - a 1967 Triumph Thunderbird my dad had had in the garage for years) into a warehouse in north london by Tube and swapped it for a spanky new computer. 1992, so it was a 386sx25 with 2meg ram. Whee.

Ten years later, on the bus with £4500 in twenties to the bike shop to buy a Suzuki Bandit 1200. Hurrah! It was a surprisingly small wad, fitting easily in my bumbag. I was quite disappointed, but the bike is great.

Which means that in five years I'll have to spend £16k on a computer to keep the cycle going. That'll probably just cover a PlayStation4, looking at the PS3's price!
( Fronds are waving gently on, Thu 22 Jun 2006, 12:48, Reply)

I once had a diamond worth £2million in my hand
but then I realised I was a pathological liar, and have no hands
( Chorizowagon Came wandering back on, Thu 22 Jun 2006, 12:47, Reply)

Pah! Lightweights (Except for Spidge)!
Back in the late 80's I worked for a shipping agency which, amongst other things, involved running errands and shit for the captains and owners of those honking great ships that come into port.

Once we had to pick up crew wages from the bank. I don't know how long it was for but it was roughly £47,000. In cash.

I've also written out a personal cheque for about £32,000. It wasn't mine however, that money was just resting in my account.

Edit: Actual personal cash money, most I've had is £5,000 when I went to buy Missus Dickus a car. Jebus.
( Biggus Dickus , it was like that when I found it, Thu 22 Jun 2006, 12:42, Reply)

Mullah
Just under three million dong in notes.

Or about £300.
(Fiendish Astronaut, Thu 22 Jun 2006, 12:41, Reply)

Cash money...
I used to buy and sell a lot of crap, including comics.

I once sold some very rare Manga issues to a chap who paid me in cash to the tune of £3k ( he wanted them badly), and he dumped the sweaty wad of twenties onto the table in the pub, in full view of about 30 drugged-out giro scrotes who were busily nursing their pains with Special Brew.

It was a goodly day to spend some of my mark-up on a taxi!
(Jay Tea, Thu 22 Jun 2006, 12:40, Reply)

When I were a lad
I used to work in an off licence. Every week it was my job to take the winnings to the local bank to be paid in.

Usually it was about £8,000. Most of the time I took the bus with the cash stuffed in a plastic bag.

£8,000 in them days were a lot of money. Probably worth about £5,000,000,000 in today's money.
(><(((">, Thu 22 Jun 2006, 12:35, Reply)

cash from the bank
usual stuff - got 8grand from the bank to buy a jap import Mitsubishi FTO but I forgot to get anything to carry it in, After the teller had spent 25mins counting it all out I realized how large 8grand mainly in £20 notes is. Had to walk out of the bank with a very conspicuous large envelope the size of a ream of A4 stuffed full of cash....noooo don't look at me *whistles*
(silencio ....Fetch the Big Net...., Thu 22 Jun 2006, 12:32, Reply)

my cock is worth millions
so millions
( WormuIus, Thu 22 Jun 2006, 12:17, Reply)

not strictly carried, but still
first day on the job as a Securicor driver, after 5 days training. Bear in mind I was about 21 and this was a summer job for an impoverished student. I was only due to be there for 6 weeks.

Anyway - I'm supposed to be 'observing' the pro's in action before I start properly, but since there's a lot to do at one particular location, the two other guys get out, leaving me to pass the bags out of the back of the van while they throw them down the line to the bank people inside. So I'm inside the van with the keys, and sitting on £2.5 million in cash. Literally sitting on it.

Obviously I was a good boy and started chucking it out the back of the van, but I can't say I wasn't tempted. Most of the town probably carried my ass print around in their wallet that weekend.
(Spidge New sig needed, donations gratefully accepted., Thu 22 Jun 2006, 12:14, Reply)

Working as a supervisor for a high street retail shop
This particular chain of shops are fairly cheap so they don't have securicor men or anything to come get the money off them. No...

Instead they leave it to someone who works there to go and carry the cash round in a money bag inside a carrier bag to the bank at various intervals throughout the day. However, when the banks close on a sat early, you are left with all of the days takings from the sat in the safe (best trading day of week) then you are left with all of sundays takings on top of that, and with a local event going on... And then with this particular weekend being a bank holiday you are left with all of mondays takings too. By the time its come round to tuesday morning you have yourself a lot of money. This happened to be my job a few times, walk around the town centre (chav central - tamworth) with about £7000 in my hand in a carrier bag. Still, they must have trusted me a lot, i was just turned 18 then.
( MadAdamUk was last alive on, Thu 22 Jun 2006, 12:10, Reply)

Aldi Carrier Bag - Classy
Some years ago I was selling expensive German cars in a certain Northern city. To say our client base was 'mixed' would be an understatement: we had footballers, freelance pharmaceutical retailers, ODCs (Ordinary Decent Criminals) and even (no, please....) lawyers in on a regular basis.
One regular proposed that he would purchase one of my nice shiny large expensive vehicles. Method of payment? Another large expensive vehicle that he had 'repossessed' in payment of a debt from another 'local businessman'. This was to be sold to a garage down the road who allegedly weren't that fussy about paperwork allegedly, and they would give a nice clean bankers draft to me. Sorted.
Until said other dealer comes belting into carpark and lobs Aldi carrier bag at my salesman, and heads over the horizon sharpish. A nice gift thinks I? A bottle to say ta for the service?
Nah. £35000 in mixed cash.£35 sodding grand of possible well dodgy origin. Mixed in denomination, English Scottish and Northern Irish. Arse. Our cash limit? £5000. Double Arse. Who gets to count it shut in an office with two VERY big bad mothers? And was I going to tell them that they were £80 down? Guess. My response to the boss when he gently enquired as to why the fuck I had taken said wonga: "You go in and fucking tell him". Declined with thanks.
And the bank, ever vigilant about big wads of cash? Didn't blink an eyelid when I turned up with case exploding with readies. Not a bloody word said. After being forced to take it on my own because officially it never happened, and having to park fucking miles away. I even seriously considered removing the strictly ornamental (cough) handcuffs from the bedpost (cough) to chain the fucker to my wrist but decided that getting mugged/stabbed for the cash would be bad enough but in that area they'd probably chew my arm off anyway.

Disclaimer: This all happened ages before the money laundering regulations came in, honest. And he's dead now anyway. And it's not true. IT NEVER HAPPENED, OFFICER/ M'LUD.

Note: would be more interesting if I could give all the details but I like walking. As such, it's boring but long. Story of my life.

First post from long time lurker
(osok Rebel without a clue, Thu 22 Jun 2006, 12:08, Reply)

200 thousand of your finest english pounds.
My first job was as a messenger in the mid 80's for a brokers in London. I didn't realise at the time that the owners were insider trading, and that this money was profits from an "offshore" account they had created (so no tax paid either). I basically had to go to a local bank, and carry it back in a suitcase, shitting myself.
I fume now everytime I realise that they sacked me for taking a sickie, when I could have reported them and got the fuckers in jail.
(Mooo, Thu 22 Jun 2006, 12:06, Reply)