I only paid in cash for three days. It was harder than I expected

Opinion: Punching in my PIN at my bank’s closest ATM, I discovered that the experience of getting cash out, though novel, felt clunky and outdated.

Still, after two wrong PIN attempts, I emerged from the deserted vestibule with a triumphant fistful of cash.

The crisp $50 notes gave me a little jolt of excitement – despite the fact my tiny wallet was not designed to easily carry them.

These banknotes, for now, are my only form of payment.

Cash is tipped to be making quite the nostalgic comeback thanks to the Reserve Bank’s recent card surcharge ban.

As expected, some businesses and retailers have raised prices instead of wearing the cost themselves.

A simple cup of coffee has weathered the worst blow.

One in 10 cafés have raised coffee prices by up to 35 cents since surcharges were banned on October 1, new data has found.

The inevitable question soon arrived: can you save money if you use only cash again?

I road-tested this theory by taking my bank card out of my wallet and vowing to only pay in cash for three days.

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Most businesses accept cash payments and it is a legal requirement that major supermarkets and fuel retailers accept cash for in-person transactions under $500.

In theory, this would make my cash-fuelled spending bender easy enough.

I quickly discovered that cash is a wonderful option for a) small purchases, b) transactions for which I have exact change and c) services that offer a cash discount.

Every shop, café, bar and retailer I visited accepted cash.

It still felt like a (very first-world) inconvenience all the same.

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My first cash purchase was a reusable water bottle from Woolworths, which I needed for a Pilates class.

I had to break a $50 note to pay for a $14.20 bottle. Suddenly, my wallet is thick with smaller notes and coins.

I soon came to detest the sound of jangling coins.

After Pilates came the ultimate test: Was my $5.57 oat latte suddenly a little cheaper?

I was charged $5.50, saving me the seven cents I’d normally pay on a card surcharge before October 1.

But there was no cash discount or effusive gratitude from the barista for paying in coins.

With wallet stuffed with cash and a heart full of hope, I skipped off to my other errands – getting my nails done and eyebrows threaded.

My local nail salon offers a modest cash discount for monies paid in cash.

My $65 service was discounted to $62 – and the cash register operator did seem genuinely chuffed that I wasn’t using card.

I then felt a compulsion to spend the coins rattling around in my purse.

Big mistake – as it turns out, coins are a necessary evil for a cash-flush society.

I purchased a bottle of kombucha from the deli using my leftover coins, leaving me with only notes.

My eyebrow threading came to an even $22.

But with just a $50 note to pay the proprietor – who had only silver coins in her register – I was left with $3 worth of 20c pieces.

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Again, there was no discount for cash payments.

Dinner that evening did, however, with a pleasant cash advantage. The pizza shop offered a five per cent discount for customers who pay cash in-store.

But for a $41.65 meal deal, this slashed just over $2 from off my final bill.

The next day, I found the $150 I took out at the ATM had dwindled to a pathetic $5 note.

It may have once been the minimum weekly wage in Australia, but I discovered $150 doesn’t get the average Melbourne journalist through one weekend.

A Saturday of coffee-sipping, errands and grocery shopping forced me back to the Commonwealth Bank branch to take out more cash.

Because I was painfully aware of every dollar I spent, I was inclined to be a little more thrifty.

At Woolworths, I spent time picking out sale items and avoiding unnecessary purchases to keep my bill under $50.

The only inconvenience was waiting for a self-serve checkout that accepted cash.

I used another $45 in cash at the thrift store to snag a pair of cowboy boots I needed for an upcoming party and $10.60 for some sushi for lunch.

Both times, the cashier turned on the Eftpos machines for my purchase.

I did notice, however, the amount was the same on both occasions, regardless of how I paid.

Another $17 was spent on a wine at a small bar, which happily accepted my cash.

The next day, Sunday, is a traditionally no-spend day for me.

I used $5.50 in cash for my usual takeaway coffee and managed to salvage the rest of my money for a rainy day.

After 48 hours of only using physical cash, it still didn’t feel natural.

Each time I approached a cash register to pay, my muscle memory would kick in – my thumb twitching, ready to double-click my iPhone to use Apple Pay or slide my credit card out of my wallet.

The savings I made over a weekend were immaterial.

But over weeks, months and years, those discounts would eventually add up.

By far, the most noticeable change was my approach to spending.

If the cash wasn’t there in my wallet, ready to be spent, I didn’t buy the item.

I avoided several big purchases at Bunnings and at clothing shops that I didn’t necessarily need that weekend.

Contactless payment has made it far too easy to spend without a second thought.

But the inside of my wallet was a helpful reminder for three whimsical days of just how much – or little – money I had left to spend.