I have absolutely no cash in my wallet. This is not because I have high-tech banking. It’s because I don’t get out much.

But last month I drove to the Minneapolis Convention Center to hear Sergio Zyman speak to the International Dairy Deli Bakery Association. I had interviewed him the week before (see Cover Story), and wanted to see how he worked the crowd. When I got there, I had no cash for the parking attendant.

She cocked her head at my AmEx card. “Cash or check,” she chirped.

You have to realize, checks prevail in Minnesota. We write a check for two cups of coffee, or a book of stamps, or dinner at a restaurant. I have had meals with friends where three people each write a check for a third of the bill and the waiter never bats an eye. The smallest check I’ve ever written was for eight cents (to the library for fines). Several years ago when I was at Advertising Age, our Minneapolis stringer pitched a story on the decision by a local McDonald’s to stop accepting personal checks. He couldn’t convince us it was newsworthy, yet we marveled for weeks over the fact that any McDonald’s had ever let you pay by check.

Now McDonald’s is testing a cashless system. In Chicago, customers carry a little radio transponder on their key chain. They wave it at a reader in the drive-thru or inside checkout, and the charge is automatically added to their credit card. It’s called a Speedpass, and Mobil gas stations started using them nearly four years ago. McDonald’s started testing it in nine restaurants last fall; now, as many as 400 restaurants will use it.

This is good, except for the credit card part. Would you want to see a charge from McDonald’s on your Visa bill? Or 10 charges, or more? Presumably, that’s the point of adding convenience: to get repeat visits. I’d get heartburn looking at the bill.

I swore off my credit card after, ahem, Christmas. I went to my bank and asked for a debit card that would automatically deduct payments from my checking account. They didn’t have one yet. “We’ve been debating it,” the teller said. “Well, hurry, will you?” I wanted to say. “I can’t keep writing checks for eight cents.”

For Sergio, of course, it’s all about cash — making it, then spending it wisely to make more. He tells great travel stories: flight attendants who serve meals, not customers; a slacker concierge; the waitress who bragged that she “got out of” employee training. “I can tell,” he told her. “We’ve been sitting here 20 minutes and you haven’t brought us a drink.”

“I stayed yesterday at TriBeCa Grand,” he tells me, “and I got a call from the bellboy or someone saying, ‘Hi, this is Guest Services, welcome to the hotel, we’re very happy to have you here, let us know if you need anything.’ Then I went to the concierge and asked if there was a gym close by and he told me, ‘One moment,’ and went on with his personal phone conversation. They blew it. The funny part is, when I checked out, they asked if I wanted to fill out an evaluation. I blasted the concierge.”

Sergio talks a lot about customer service. A lot of people do these days. Blame Amazon.com and the other prescient marketers who anticipate what shoppers want. Heck, I got an e-mail from Amazon listing movie show times at my local theater not a half hour after e-chatting with a friend about getting together to see Moulin Rouge. (Yes, I’ve written checks at that theater: $5 to get in, $2 for Raisinets). This kind of preemptive customer service was Nordstrom’s trick 10 years ago. We fell over ourselves with awe that a sales clerk would hand-write a thank you note after she sold you a $100 pair of shoes.

These days, customer service is the ante to play the game. It’s getting more important every day to anticipate customers’ needs.

Now if I could just get a little forward-thinking myself and keep a $20 bill in my wallet, I’d be set.