The cheque is a dramatic (and dying) way to spend a dollar. We must keep it alive

Picture this. You’re in a crowded restaurant, seated at the head of the table, surrounded by friends and family. A long lunch that has bled into dinner. Everywhere you look, there are half-empty bottles of wine, people are enjoying themselves, and there’s talk of kicking on to another venue. Because you’re in a double-breasted suit and everyone else is dressed normally, the waiter brings you the bill. “Cash or card, sir?” Neither, you say, pulling a Montblanc pen from your inside pocket, followed by a personal chequebook.

You write a cheque for the full amount plus a little something extra for the staff. You date it, sign it, fold it in half and discreetly slip it into the waiter’s pocket. Two pats on the shoulder, a knowing wink. He begins, “Sir, we no longer accept cheques as a form of payment ...” but his protest is drowned out by cheers. People have seen what you’ve done. They adore you. Life is good.

The pen. The handwriting. The way payment is meant to be.Credit: Jessica Hromas

Of all the things 1990s pop culture led me to believe would feature heavily in adult life – quicksand, hammerhead sharks, Mr Squiggle – the disappearance of the chequebook is easily the most devastating. Back then, cheques were everywhere: in films, on TV, and most memorably, tucked inside the birthday cards from my Greek grandparents. Every year, without fail, I’d open the card, skim the well-wishes, and then turn my attention to the real prize – a rectangular slip of paper, payable to me and me only.

Superior to simply being gifted cash, the cheque’s power lay in delayed gratification. Twenty bucks in a card is twenty bucks in a card, but a handwritten cheque for twenty dollars and zero cents offered something far more valuable – the promise of money.

Of course, because we are inherently impatient creatures with no appreciation for the fact that good things come to those who wait, we went and ruined it all. In 1980, cheques accounted for 85 per cent of non-cash payments, so if you wanted to buy a house in Sydney (something people could still do in the 1980s), then you’d likely be writing a cheque for $76,500.

By the mid-1990s, cheques still represented 50 per cent of non-cash payments and were deeply ingrained in the culture. Tabloid newspapers began paying sources for stories about high-profile figures, giving rise to the term chequebook journalism. Meanwhile, in 1994, my favourite cheque-related movie, Blank Cheque, was released. The film follows a boy who inherits a blank cheque and uses it to buy a house under an alter ego, which he then fills with all his favourite gadgets and toys. The dream!

According to Wikipedia, “Blank Cheque received mostly negative reviews,” but you know what they haven’t made a movie about? Contactless payments.

These days, cheques are all but extinct, accounting for just 0.2 per cent of transactions – a number that continues to decline yearly. This is part of a broader issue stemming from our obsession with convenience that poses a deeply troubling question: We opted to tap and go rather than write and wait, but at what cost?

For one thing, if cheques were still the dominant form of payment, then we’d all think twice about some of our idiotic purchases. Spending $76 on Thai food delivery is a thoughtless act when you can order at the click of a button, but retrieving one’s chequebook and sitting down to scrawl out the words Blue Buddha Thai Kitchen and seventy-six dollars gives ample time for reconsideration.

In addition to enforced savings, the return of the cheque would encourage much-needed human connection in an increasingly isolated world.

Cash may be king, and tapping may be convenient, but nothing is more satisfying than paying with a cheque, mate.

For instance, you sell me a second-hand armchair on Facebook Marketplace. The exchange of goods for funds takes place in a local car park. Rather than transferring you via PayID, I ask: “Who can I make the cheque out to?” You give me the name of your unborn child, explaining that the money is going into a trust for their future. We discuss the joys and challenges of raising children in the modern world. You must then take the cheque to either the post office or a local bank branch (if you can find one). There, the teller marvels at the existence of a cheque (in this economy!), and you say, “Well, actually, it’s a crazy story.”

Sadly, it appears the powers refuse to heed the advice that Ice Cube so wisely doled out in 1992; they would rather wreck themselves than cheque themselves. In December, the federal government announced that it would stop issuing cheques by 2028, with a full phase-out to be completed “no later than 2030”.

What this means for novelty cheques, which still feature on game shows, remains unclear, but either way, we should all be worried. Cash may be king, and tapping may be convenient, but nothing is more satisfying than paying with a cheque, mate.

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