It is funny how money has become invisible. I still spend it, lose it, and worry about it, but I seldom see it because I no longer keep a cache of cash in my purse.

Without cash, tipping has become complicated. I went to have my nails done the other day, and when it came time to pay, the total was $20. They did not want me to charge the expenses, especially the tip, but $20 was all the cash I had. The nail technician smiled sweetly and said, “Don’t worry about the tip, you can get me next time,” but of course, I did worry. I left feeling guilty, clutching my freshly polished nails, and making a mental note to try to remember to bring more cash the next time.

There are so many little moments when tipping is called for, such as throwing a few bucks in the glass jar of the musician playing all of the oldies at the restaurant, the valet who jogs to fetch my car, the hotel housekeeper who leaves the extra towels, and the kind young man who carries my groceries to the car. They all deserve a tip, but I cannot exactly wave my debit card in the air or ask for their Venmo handle. So, I just smile, nod, and promise myself to make sure I stop at the bank and load my wallet full of bills.

My wallet always used to hold a tidy stack of bills, and lone one-dollar bills were haphazardly strewn through my purse, crumpled and tucked into different pockets. No longer. Now it’s all plastic. Every purchase goes on a credit or debit card, both of which are worn thin from the number of times I take them in and out.

Girl Scouts were selling cookies the other day, and I was fretting over the fact that I never have cash on hand anymore. However, they had a handy-dandy little app that allowed me to charge them on my ATM card. Problem solved! Of course, that also meant I bought even more boxes than usual, because I was no longer limited by the amount of cash in my wallet.

Then there are the Venmo, Apple Cash, and PayPal options. I was introduced to these options at work several few months ago. One of my colleagues was going to go out to purchase lunch for us, but I lamented that I did not have any cash to pay her back. She said I could “Venmo” her, (turning the option into a verb.) She showed me how, and I have been hooked ever since. Now, when the collection plate comes around at church, I just whisper, “Sorry, I Venmoed Jesus last week.”

My daughter, Marie, who is living in our house, pays me $300 per month rent. She takes all of her Social Security Disability Money out of our joint bank account on the first of the month and puts it into Apple Cash, (in an effort to prevent me from stealing any of it, I surmise.) She therefore pays me through Apple Cash, which, at first, was very confusing for my older mind. However, now that I have learned that Apple Cash can pay for a multitude of things, I see it as a bonus to have virtual money tucked away. I have used it to pay for our favorite deep-dish pizza at Domino’s, medications, birthday cards and hygiene items at CVS, and vacations on Expedia.

The world of financial technology is changing faster than I can keep up. I just about learn one technique, and then new ones crop up. (Zelle? Actually sending money from one bank account to another?) I have learned, however, that I do need to keep at least a little cash on hand for tipping, donating, or buying candy bars sold by the Boy Scouts. Maybe it is old-fashioned, but there is something comforting about the feel of a real dollar bill. In a world of virtual wallets and invisible money, a bit of cash tucked away feels like a small connection to simpler times, and a reminder that generosity does not always need an app.