of banks and checks

I have a public service announcement:  if you live in Australia and receive a check made out in American dollars, mail it back home*.  No point cashing it here, unless it's really big.

My Grandparents, you see, very kindly sent me a Thanksgiving check.  Thanksgiving checks, for the Australian readership, are not particularly common, though obviously always exceedingly well received.  I'd written and mailed my thank you, which explicitly stated my intention of using the Thanksgiving money to buy Thanksgiving food for the Thursday night Thanksgiving I'm attending, when I walked into the bank and asked them if I could get some cash.

The man working there was just the sort of man I like to encounter at banks -- tall (it instills confidence), middle aged, exceedingly professional, fluent and polite.  He wore gray, which I find suitable in few locations besides banks.  In banks I don't mind.  I don't mind associates looking a bit drab; I assume it means they are conserving brain power for helping me solve my banking needs.

And so I asked the man, who, just for fun, I'll call Mr. Banks (he was certain a Mister something), if I could cash an American check.  Yes, he assured me, I could.  Did I have an account with them?  Yes, I assured him, I did.  Excellent, he said.  In that case I also had the option of depositing my money into the bank account, though it would take thirty days for the cheque (he clearly said it with the Australian spelling) to clear.  Seeing as Thanksgiving is significantly less than thirty days away, I favored the fast, cold, hard cash routine.  Excellent, he said.  There would only be the processing fee.  Was that a flat fee, I asked, or a percentage?  A flat fee, he assured me.  He wasn't positive off the top of his head, but it was certainly either $10 or $20 AU.

At this point I did what I believe you could term "to balk."  You see, Thanksgiving checks, which, as I previously pointed out, are relatively unheard of (thought it had come from my relatives -- ha!).  They're also not exactly down payments.  The particular one I had received happened to be for $20 US.  Math is not my strong suit, but even without doing the conversion in my head, I understood fairly clearly that cashing the check was not a reasonable option.  I thanked him hastily and hustled off to run another errand.

After that errand, I began thinking about the elusive first option Mr. Banks had mentioned.  It was clearly not ideal to wait 30 days for my money, but it would almost certainly be quicker than buying an envelope (I do not, as you may recall, currently own any envelopes -- I rarely actually need them, and you can't buy them individually), writing a hasty note to my parents, mailing it to America, getting Dad to deposit it and then transferring that money to my Australian bank account.  What's more, though, that would be entirely counterproductive as it costs $15 US from the American bank and $22 AU from the Australian bank to transfer the money, which, again putting my mathematical skills to work, would leave me soundly in the hole as far as the check was concerned.

Thus, I determined that, if the depositing option was not a go, the only real option would be to wait until I had a card to mail to my parents (they come with envelopes, you see), stick the check in there (signing it first, of course -- my family's always a bit funny about signing checks and mailing them (what if someone steals it!?), but I figured no one was likely to risk their criminal record simply to cash a $20 check.  Unless they're already in some sort of massively well organized check stealing mafia, in which case I really wouldn't want to mess with them anyway.) and ask Dad to deposit it in my American bank account.

My American bank account, no doubt, would be exceedingly thrilled to receive any money whatsoever (it's begun to forget what having money actually feels like), though it would make things rather more difficult in terms of buying an avocado and some ground beef here.  (Yes, for Thanksgiving.  Long story.)  However, seeing as I'd be waiting 30 days to get the money here even if the depositing scheme (sigh -- since when does it have to be a scheme to get your own money?) worked, I figured it really didn't matter at this point.  Might as well stock up at home to save for my next online shopping trip.  If I want to feel like I've actually cheated The System in a really devious yet fitting way, I could charge something to my American credit card here and pay it off with those very funds from my American bank account, but that's all a little more work than really necessary.  The American credit card's posed a few too many problems recently, and I'm giving it a bit of a time out, you see.

My plan thus coherently formed, I marched again into the bank and found Mr. Banks on the phone.  He was joined this time by another associate, a twenty-something girl who looked possibly like a misplaced art student, who was speaking to a man in a tradesman uniform who appeared to be bringing in new fake plants.  I caught her eye for a second, but she made absolutely no motion to acknowledge or greet me.  I breathed a sigh of relief and went back to waiting for Mr. Banks.

Being a banker, he was thankfully efficient on the phone and a minute later was able to greet me again.  If he recognized me from six minutes ago, he gave no immediate sign of it.  I decided to assume it was safe to assume he did recognize me (aside from the plant man, there didn't appear to have been any other customers, and, after all, how many Americans in bright red tops could they have possibly served in six minutes?) and asked about the possibility of depositing an American check in my bank account.  Oh yes, he said, they could do that.  It would take thirty days, though.  I explained that I was aware of the thirty day rule, but was curious as to any fees I might incur.  Ah yes!  Recognition dawned, and I was soon given to learn that, in true stalwart professionalism known only to bankers, and, perhaps, accountants, he had spent the intervening six minutes refreshing his knowledge as to whether the flat fee for international conversions was $10 or $20.  It turned out to be $10.  Which would, he explained, put my potential deposit, with the current exchange rate, at something just shy of $10.  In thirty days.

I again thanks Mr. Banks for his assistance, but informed him that, sadly, I still did not think it was worth it.  He appeared to understand, which is about the most you can expect from bank employees.  I bid him adieu and took my exit, now confident my plan of mailing the (signed) check safely home to my parents to deposit in my American bank account was the best plan.

Now if only I had some food for Thanksgiving.

*I would just like to take this opportunity to point out that I am still very grateful to accept checks.  The money does get to me eventually and I am always thrilled to receive them.  It might be slightly less cumbersome for all concerned if they were sent directly to my parents, though of course they would miss their world tour that way.  And, seeing as relatively few checks get to say they've been to Sydney and back again -- well, who am I to deny them the opportunity?  Seriously, sending them either place is fine -- just know that they might not clear for several months.  There is something about opening an envelope and finding a check inside.  And there's really something even cooler about opening an envelope and finding Australian cash inside!