Cheque Cashing Quotes

If you wrote something for which someone sent you a cheque, if you cashed the cheque and it didn't bounce, and if you then paid the light bill with the money, I consider you talented.

He sagged to his knees. He ached all over. It wasn't just that his brain was writing cheques that his body couldn't cash. It had gone beyond that. Now his feet were borrowing money that his legs hadn't got, and his back muscles were looking for loose change under the sofa cushions.

That pretty much nailed that, and it was pretty late by now, so I dragged myself upstairs and got into my office – or… my bed – and tried to work on the figures for the café. I run a guinea-pig-themed café. But it’s out of cash and it’s going to close unless a cheque falls out of the sky, or a banker comes on my arse, but neither are going to happen, and I don’t want to dignify the banker-man with a proper mention so I’m not going to talk about him or how I do sometimes wish I could own up to not having morals and just let him come on my arse for ten thousand pounds, but apparently we’re ‘not supposed to do that’, so okay. I won’t. Even though it would solve everything. I won’t.

Don't let your mouth write cheques that your talent can't cash.

In any case, that book snagged his first-ever prize. He’d pretended to view it with indifference, even disdain – what were prizes but one more level of control imposed on Art by the establishment? – but he’d cashed the cheque.

The Bank of England distributes the nation’s money regionally in this way to avoid the danger of a single calamitous incident at one building destroying its stock of bank notes. This is important because, despite cheques and plastic, the public still uses a vast amount of cash. Approximately £37 billion is fluttering around the national economy daily in paper money.

Economics is a notoriously complicated subject. To make things easier, let’s imagine a simple example. Samuel Greedy, a shrewd financier, founds a bank in El Dorado, California. A. A. Stone, an up-and-coming contractor in El Dorado, finishes his first big job, receiving payment in cash to the tune of $1 million. He deposits this sum in Mr Greedy’s bank. The bank now has $1 million in capital. In the meantime, Jane McDoughnut, an experienced but impecunious El Dorado chef, thinks she sees a business opportunity – there’s no really good bakery in her part of town. But she doesn’t have enough money of her own to buy a proper facility complete with industrial ovens, sinks, knives and pots. She goes to the bank, presents her business plan to Greedy, and persuades him that it’s a worthwhile investment. He issues her a $1 million loan, by crediting her account in the bank with that sum. McDoughnut now hires Stone, the contractor, to build and furnish her bakery. His price is $1,000,000. When she pays him, with a cheque drawn on her account, Stone deposits it in his account in the Greedy bank. So how much money does Stone have in his bank account? Right, $2 million. How much money, cash, is actually located in the bank’s safe? Yes, $1 million. It doesn’t stop there. As contractors are wont to do, two months into the job Stone informs McDoughnut that, due to unforeseen problems and expenses, the bill for constructing the bakery will actually be $2 million. Mrs McDoughnut is not pleased, but she can hardly stop the job in the middle. So she pays another visit to the bank, convinces Mr Greedy to give her an additional loan, and he puts another $1 million in her account. She transfers the money to the contractor’s account. How much money does Stone have in his account now? He’s got $3 million. But how much money is actually sitting in the bank? Still just $1 million. In fact, the same $1 million that’s been in the bank all along. Current US banking law permits the bank to repeat this exercise seven more times. The contractor would eventually have $10 million in his account, even though the bank still has but $1 million in its vaults. Banks are allowed to loan $10 for every dollar they actually possess, which means that 90 per cent of all the money in our bank accounts is not covered by actual coins and notes.2 If all of the account holders at Barclays Bank suddenly demand their money, Barclays will promptly collapse (unless the government steps in to save it). The same is true of Lloyds, Deutsche Bank, Citibank, and all other banks in the world. It sounds like a giant Ponzi scheme, doesn’t it? But if it’s a fraud, then the entire modern economy is a fraud. The fact is, it’s not a deception, but rather a tribute to the amazing abilities of the human imagination. What enables banks – and the entire economy – to survive and flourish is our trust in the future. This trust is the sole backing for most of the money in the world.

But this time around, and perhaps for the first time in his career, he realized that American Express’s most important asset by far did not appear on its balance sheet—it existed in people’s minds. The company’s four historical cash cows—express, money order, travelers cheques, and charge card—all depended on safeguarding cash before it arrived at its destination.

Formed in 1950, Diners’ Club initiated the first universal restaurant charge card that prominent New York restaurants would accept. Cardholders charged for a meal, and the restaurant collected from the Club less a 5%–10% discount (which restaurants were willing to accept since cardholders typically spent more than those paying with cash on hand). Diners’ Club paid the restaurant and had to collect from cardholders. In the 1950s, credit cards took off in the United States. There were cards for specific companies as well as universal travel and entertainment charge cards.244 American Express debated the merits of creating a card. But by the 1950s, the company’s executives realized that people were using the cards for travel-related services, posing a risk for the travelers cheque. Furthermore, the money order business was becoming less important, with the rise of personal checking accounts stealing business away from money orders. The company finally decided it would be better for American Express to protect itself by making its own card rather than lose all that business.245 American Express debated entering the business by acquiring Diners’ Club. After that deal fell through, American Express decided to go forward by launching its own American Express Credit Card in 1958. The American Express Credit Card was, in reality, a charge card, not a credit card. The latter had a revolving line of credit whose balance could be carried over from month to month. While technically still an extension of credit, the charge card required all outstanding balances to be paid in full each month.246,247 Before launching, American Express reached a deal with the American Hotel Association, providing Amex with 150,000 cardholders and 4,500 participating hotels. American Express then bought 40,000 members from the Gourmet card.248 And when rumors spread that American Express was thinking of starting a card, people wanted in. In contrast to the banks, who literally had to mass-mail cards to people when they rolled out their offerings (a practice made illegal in 1970), people flocked to American Express.249 The brand, whose image had evolved from a guard dog to ‘the guardian of Rome,’ the centurion, had now become a status symbol.

However, the same old problem remained: relinquishing a cheque to her fetid bank account. It was like a bog. A cheque would be sucked down until the surface closed over and it looked no different from before. However, asking her sister for a postal order was one thing. Asking Joe for cash again was another. It didn't make her feel cheap; it just made her feel poor. And that decimated her self-esteem.

The issue today is that branches were not designed for this purpose. They were designed to look after money and process monetary transactions. They were designed to handle physical forms of cash and cheques, as secure transaction centres. This is the core reason why everyone thinks that branches will disappear because they are not retail stores, engaging the brand community, but instead transaction centres run like some administration process.

Cheque loans were the smartest way of availing funds at the time of sudden monetary disaster. With the support of this excellent financial deal borrowers can easily avail the desired amount of funds to sort of their numerous financial troubles. Borrowers can easily enjoy the service of this financial deal without pledging any sort of collateral to the lenders.

Yesterday is a cancelled cheque. Today is cash on the line. Tomorrow is a promissory note.

No publisher. No agent. They had told him that sales had not been good. Markets had changed. Same old shit. Well, fuck them. Fuck them all. Something different was needed, apparently. Something original but easily pigeon-holed. Books by celebrities were very popular. Models, second-rate comedians, has-been soap stars (those that weren’t trying to make it in the music business), even footballers were writing books. Any talentless cunt with enough money to pay a ghost-writer and a good editor was capable of churning out a book and earning shit-loads of cash for it. And then there were the household names who milked their own brand of repetitious bullshit while fawning publishers knelt at their feet to push ever-larger cheques into their grasping hands. Add to these the comfortable middle-class writers who lectured on real life from the security of knowing it was a world they would never have to inhabit. People with millions in the bank who crowed that money wasn’t everything, who complained about invasion of privacy during their six-page interviews, who were proud of how they’d been single mothers or record-shop employees or advertising men before they’d made it big. And who whined about how hard they’d had to work to get published when all it took was a generous publisher and an even more generous publicity department. Ward despised them all. Even when he’d been successful he’d despised them. The whole fucking business stank. It stank of cowardice. Of duplicity. Of betrayal.

It wasn’t just that his brain was writing cheques that his body couldn’t cash. It had gone beyond that. Now his feet were borrowing money that his legs hadn’t got, and his back muscles were looking for loose change under the sofa cushions.

My banking friends were transfixed. Bonuses are the only think that investment bankers care about, and the idea of getting a cheque and then not being able to cash it is an investment banker's worst nightmare.

I went down to Chemical—and after asking to see everything but my teeth, they cashed {my cheque}. Nothing infuriates me like those friendly, folksy bank ads in magazines and on TV. Every bank I ever walked into was about as folksy as a cobra.

Okay stop that, because right now your mouth’s writing cheques that my moderate-to-severe injuries can’t cash.

For though I had affected to consider that the ancestor's scheme for melting L. P. Runkle was the goods, I didn't really believe it would work. You don't get anywhere filling with rich foods a bloke who wears a Panama hat like his: the only way of inducing the L. P. Runkle type of man to part with cash is to kidnap him, take him to the cellar beneath the lonely mill and stick lighted matches between his toes. And even then he would probably give you a dud cheque.