moneyShow most recent or highest rated first. Common beliefs in this section include:
I used to believe that there was a tree in every house hidden somewhere that grew BANK NOTES and every time we needed money ,dad just had to pick it up in his secret location!
I thought that I had 5 coins in my box (one dime and four pennies), I thought that was the same as 5 dollars
When I was little I would see my dad go into the bank and come out with money and I thought that that was how it was - when you wanted money you just went to the bank and they gave it to you. I know that this is basically how it works, but just didn't realise that you had to earn it and deposit it in the bank first!!
I used to believe that planting coins in the yard would literally grow Money Trees. My oler brother convinced us and used to take our money to go "plant". So, I also believed that any coins I found on the ground had fallen off of a money tree.
I thought money came from banks, that they literally made it in back, lol, and would give it to people who filled out those little slips of paper at the desk or used an ATM. I knew there was some kind of code you'd break to get it... of course this was way, way before I got a checking acct, PIN number (my code! lol!) and a job (my money!) Good times.
I used to think that all $1 and $2 coins were made of entirely gold because they are a yellowish color (they are made of mainly copper). I also thought that 5 cent, 10 cent, 20 cent and 50 cent coins were made of nothing but silver (they are actually a mixture of copper and nickel). I live in Australia by the way.
I used to believe that there were actually people inside ATM's to give you money. When my mom would pull up to an ATM I would sit very prim and proper and be very nice...I thought that if they saw me acting badly, then they wouldn't give us any money!
When my sister and I were little, we convinced our younger brother that nickles were worth more than dimes because they were bigger in size. My brother easily traded his dimes for our nickles (sometimes even more than one!). We made off with quite a bit of moola until we got caught! :)
I used to think the man on the dime was Arnold Palmer.
I thought the bank just gave away money if you typed the right number in. Now I realise thats not the case!
When I was young I used to think that some special selected pennies went through an old penny machine that spray painted them green and chipped the edges.
I think I must have once followed my Mom to the bank while she got something out of a small safe or something when I was young, because I believed that the way banks worked (having never gone with her to the bank before, and not going with her again later) was that everyone with an account had their own locked drawer. You'd go to the bank, then someone would take you to a room where there were walls and walls of little drawers, and you kept your money in that drawer.
When she explained it to me a bit, about how banks will give your money to other people, but they keep track of how much money you have, I figured that they just had a gigantic safe (with a huge combination lock on the front), like in cartoons, that was just piled up with money tossed everywhere. When you deposited money, they opened the door and threw it in. When you withdrew money, they went into the safe and got the money you asked for.
I still thought it was mean that they gave your money away, though.
When I was about six years old I figured out that a penny was worth a cent because it had one cent's worth of copper in it. A nickel had five cents' worth of nickel, a dime had ten cents' worth of silver, etc.
Dollar bills I decided were worth a dollar because the printing process was so expensive.
I believed that if you wanted to buy something, but didn't have enough money, the kind shopkeeper would give you enough "change" so that you could afford it. It is a shame that I only ever tested this theory when buying lollies, instead of trying it out to buy a porsche!
When I was 5 years old, the church gave everybody in the neighbourhood those little donation bags that said 'bread for the world' on them. The girl who distributed those bags told me that they were collecting for poor kids who had no money to buy bread. So it seemed only natural to me to snag a few slices of bread from my kitchen. I asked my cousin to do the same, then we'd go to the church together and gave the priest our bags that contained real bread! He had a good laugh before he explained that you were actually supposed to put money in those. And because I thought the money was going to kids, I figured they would only need play money, so I emptied the cashier of my doll supermarket, filled the back and took it back to the church. Little did I understand why the priest was still laughing at me!
One day when I was very young my grandpa was going to the bank. He showed me his check, and explained it to me. I told him I wanted some money too. I got out my red crayon, and some paper. I tried my best to copy his check. I even put a line under my name. I gave it to my grandpa, and asked him to take it to the bank for me. He said it wouldn't work. He said it was a hot check. I thought about it for a while. Then I took out some more paper and my blue crayon. I copied the check again, and handed it to him. I told him it wasn't hot anymore it was cold because I used blue! It took him quite awhile to explain it to me.
When I was about 7 I thought checks were special bills with no predetermined value. When you wanted to pay for something, you could turn a check into a bill for the specific amount of money you were paying by writing the amount on it. Very convenient, wasn't it? But then I thought about the person receiving the check and wondered if they were ever going to find a use for that specific amount of money.
My mother told me that money was the dirtiest thing around. I decided it was because people kept it in their bums.
That belief lingered and when I was a cashier in HS I almost vomitted when someone handed me a damp dollar bill.
When i was younger i got 2 dollars a week for allowance. my dad sometimes ran out of 1 dollar bills so he gave me a 5 and took 3 of mi dollars. that made me so angry. i didnt know much about money or math so i just thought my dad was stealing from me.
I remember not understaning why, when my parents paid for something with a credit card, the cashier gave the card back to them. I had thought a credit card was something like a plastic dollar bill.