the times | Monday June 13 2022 7life
I am getting my nails done. The east
London nail bars I go to have a very
strict cash-only rule. Unlike online
payments, that is a traceless
transaction, so read into that what you
will about the legitimacy of my local
Vietnamese salons. These days, if a
business asks you to pay cash, it’s
usually a sign that something a bit
dodgy is going on.
That said, cash does feel quite
nostalgic and sweet, like VHS tapes.
Maybe that’s because the only time I
receive it is when my grandparents or
great-aunts kindly tuck a £20 into a
Christmas or birthday card.
Yet it is that elderly generation who
are being left behind and alienated by
the national shift towards contactless
and online payments. About ten
million people, or one in five adults, in
the UK would struggle to manage in
a society without cash, and one in
three people dependent on cash are
over 65, according to a report by the
Royal Society of Arts.
As technology advances and the
way we pay each other gets more and
more techy, it is all starting to feel a
little bit Black Mirror. My NatWest
banking app recently started using
facial recognition technology. So to
pay someone I just have to blink twice
into the camera to prove it’s really me,
and the bank transfer is made. Quick
and convenient? Absolutely. Creepy
and a violation of privacy? Yes,
probably that too.
I do wonder what corner of the
internet stores those ugly selfies of me
drunkenly blinking into the camera
when I’m trying to send a friend that
£15 I owe for a pizza. The thought of
that is almost alarming enough to
make me miss the days of paying with
good old-fashioned notes and coins.Kupa Rusike and
Blanca Schofield in
Borough MarketCash does
feel quite
nostalgic
and sweet,
like VHS
tapes
and recite it to myself as I stand in
line at the ATM.
Then I go to the station, ready
to buy an Oyster card, but the
machine doesn’t accept cash, so I
have to walk to a shop selling
Oysters that does. I hand over my
tenner, trundle on to work and treat
myself with my final coins to a £3.50
orange juice at Borough Market.
Should I use cash more often to
improve my budgeting? Probably.
Will I? Probably not.pocket, I go through to the station,
ready to buy a ticket from the machine
with my coins. But here I already have
to admit I cheated. It turns out that a
physical ticket is almost double the
price of a contactless or Oyster fare.
Oyster-less and unwilling to fork out, I
guiltily tap the barrier with my phone,
pledging to find a reasonable way to
pay with cash in the morning.
Since it’s a sort of sunny evening,
my boyfriend and I decide to swim in
the Hampstead ponds. As a north
Londoner, I have made this a
relatively regular hobby, often
accompanied by a Lucozade Sport
and a packet of McCoy’s Flame-
Grilled Steak crisps that I buy in the
corner shop on the way. The shop
insists on a £2 minimum for cashless
transactions, but my items cost
£2.05 so I usually just tap my phone.
This time I will be that obliging
customer who pays with cash. It
turns out, however, that the £10 note
I got as lipstick change is Scottish
and the cashier is unwilling to
accept it. I must do without my
pre-swim snacks.
There’s another hitch at the ponds.
They also refuse my £10 note — you
need to pay the exact amount. My
boyfriend, the gentleman, pays for me
since I left my phone and card at
home to avoid the temptation to cheat.
After the swim I’m starving and
head to Sainsbury’s to buy my dinner.
Oven pizzas are on sale in the reduced
section so I pluck one out and wait for
the self-checkout that accepts cash,
relishing the moment when my
Scottish tenner is finally accepted.
The next morning I leave the house
earlier to account for any cash
mishaps. Unlike most Gen Zs, I
actually do know my PIN ( just about)MICHAEL LECKIE FOR THE TIMEScash? My generation never uses it
L
ike most people, I was
brought up to use cash. From
the age of ten I’d be handed
money, sent out to buy small
items like milk and told to ask
for a receipt and check the change. Yet
despite this early training, I can’t
remember the last time I used cash.
With my iPhone, I can use Apple Pay
to purchase nearly anything. It’s more
efficient and convenient, so why would
I use cash? Unless, that is, I’ve been
specifically asked to by my editor.
My typical morning routine consists
of leaving the house soon after 9am to
catch a train to London Bridge, which
departs at 9.23am. It’s a ten-minute
walk and I’d usually give myself just
13 minutes to get there and tap
through the gate with Apple Pay.
Today I give myself an extra
15 minutes and head to the ATM to
withdraw money. Once there I have to
browse through my phone to find a
note with a PIN reminder. I take out
£40, not because I’m planning on
spending that much, but because I
don’t want to risk running out.
At the ticket machine there’s a
queue, which means another delay.
Both the people ahead take a while
getting their wallets out. Finally at the
front, I buy a single ticket from the
station to London Bridge, which costs
me £7.30. The change is a £10 note —
and coins. My wallet doesn’t have a
coin compartment. I put them in my
trouser pocket, where they jingle. It’s a
sound I associate with a different
generation of men.
At lunch I head to Borough Market
and buy a mocha for £3.70, a large
pretzel for £3.50 and some bread for
£3.50. I’ve spent £10.70 in ten minutes.
Would I have noticed if I’d been
paying by card? I’m astounded by how
rapidly my money is disappearing. I
also realise that taking £40 out with
me was a good idea, because I still
have another £20 in my pocket; the
£2 coin would not have got me home
on a train.
My final purchase of the day is
a £7.50 train ticket home. If I buy
train tickets on my card it’s half the
price. I suddenly realise I’ve been
penalised for using cash. Would I try
this again? It certainly made me think
about small purchases — but it was
also inconvenient.I
went to visit my family for the
jubilee weekend. As we were
saying our goodbyes my dad
handed me a £20 note, saying:
“Here’s a little something to cover
your travel costs.” A generous and
nostalgic gesture, but I’m out of the
liquid asset habit.
How will I use this note, I
wondered? Should I try to buy my
Tube and bus ticket home? Can you
even buy bus tickets with cash? Or
maybe it would be better just to go to
a bank and put it in my account. But
banks are always closed when I finish
work! I put the note in my coat pocket
for another moment when I would
find it and try to use it.
It’s two days later and I have been
given the project of paying for
everything with cash for the next
12 hours. On my way down to the
Tube from work, I decide it would be a
good idea to buy some lipstick for my
photoshoot the next day because I
definitely don’t want to look washed
out. I pick out an inoffensive dark pink
number from Rimmel, then go to pay,
remembering not to use my phone
but to fish out the £20 from my coat
pocket instead. The cashier, already
offering me the card machine, asks,
“You want to pay with cash?” with a
quizzical look as I tentatively present
my note. “OK then,” he says,
cancelling the card transaction.
Shoving the change back in my coata
lit m h O t m oim
Wk I th ghtothestationfo
d r W t e I s oAt the ATM I
realise I can’t
recall my PIN
Kupa Rusike, 21
My dad gives me
a £20 note. How
should I use this?
Blanca Schofield, 24