I just paid a
cheque into my account that was so big, it was almost at novelty-charity-cheque
proportions.
It was about ten
inches long and five inches wide (I’m still talking about the cheque). It was the sort of thing you'd pass to Terry Wogan from the midst of a studio audience. Just
holding it in the queue made me feel self-conscious. It was large enough for me
to put off taking it into the bank for a week, because I didn’t want the
cashier to pass comment. I’d hoped to deposit it in a machine, thus avoiding any human
interaction, but a quick recce revealed an insufficient slot. I had no choice
but to submit my outsized money face-to-face.
The scale of it was the
tip of the iceberg. To compound my embarrassment, it was a cheque for £1. Here’s
the receipt, to prove it:
I’m probably the only
person on the planet to receive a cheque of equal monetary value to the
cost of the paper it’s printed on – and then cash it. I love my life.