True story: When I turned 20, my grandma gave me a check for ten dollars. I worked full time and didn't have an ATM card, so the only time I could deposit the damn thing was between and on Friday, or get up early and deposit it on Saturday morning.
- The only branch of my bank anywhere near my office was a few miles in the wrong direction in rush hour traffic
- I hate rush hour traffic
- The chances are, I had forgotten the check at home that morning anyway
- I could never get up before on a Saturday, and
- Let’s face it—it was a lousy ten bucks.
So I didn't deposit it for months. Every six months or so, my grandma would call my mom asking politely about it, and then my mom would pester me about depositing it.
“All right, I’ll do it this week.” I knew it was a lie.
Finally, no kidding, about TWO YEARS later, I deposited it. I must have been on vacation or something. It cleared.
I never received money from Grandma again. That’s okay; the only thing I want from her is her love.
Unless it’s a hundred bucks or more.