Paying with Cash

Jen and I are trying this thing where we withdraw a wad of greenbacks from the bank at the beginning of the week and then, during the next seven days, pay for everything in cash. The intent is to make us a bit more aware of our spending habits and maybe help us staunch the ongoing hemorrhaging of dollars exacerbated by the studio-building project out back.

While I’m not sure it’s made me more fiscally responsible, I do think it makes me notice more how and when I’m spending money. There’s something far more tangible about peeling off a couple of twenties for groceries than simply sliding your cash card through the reader. There’s also this retro-grouch aspect to it that I like; it seems consistent with my preference for steel bikes and leather saddles, too.

It’s weird how paying with cash has become almost obsolete; the check-out guy at QFC looked at me skeptically when I didn’t use my debit card to settle up for my purchases yesterday. I wonder if he thought I was a drug dealer; somehow, though, I doubt most drug dealers’ grocery sacks include cottage cheese, tofu, and frozen soy beans.

Transactions are incrementally slower when they’re conducted in cash and require a palpable exchange of artifacts that doesn’t take place digitally. There was a time in my life when I would have preferred the latter; now, though, I appreciate those few extra seconds of human interaction and that real physical objects have to be passed between me and another person.

I also appreciate the minor element of danger involved in carrying cash around. I’m not terribly worried about being robbed, but I could see myself dropping my stake from a pocket or out of my bike bag. On the plus side, someone might find it and then they would get to experience the classic moral dilemma of whether to return the money. As a philosophy teacher, I’ve got to love that.