I Tried Going Cashless for a Month. Here's What Broke.
It started as an experiment.
One morning, I left my wallet at home on purpose. Just my phone, my keys, and a confidence that felt almost rebellious. I was going to live like those people in tech advertisements. Tap, scan, done.
Malaysia is supposed to be ready for this. 63% of us use mobile wallets for transactions. That's the highest rate of mobile wallet adoption globally, according to one 2024 index from Upstack Studio.
I figured a month without cash would be easy.
The makcik running the nasi lemak stall looked at me like I'd asked to pay in seashells.
I stood there, phone in hand, feeling foolish. Behind me, a queue was forming. Someone sighed.
I apologised and left without eating.
Here's something the statistics don't tell you. Cash is still the preferred payment method among Malaysian consumers at 41%. E-wallets sit at around 14% for everyday transactions. The adoption numbers are high, but the infrastructure is uneven.
In malls and chain stores, going cashless is seamless. At pasar malams and roadside stalls, it's a gamble. Some vendors have QR codes taped to their carts. Others don't. And there's no way to know until you're standing there, hungry, with nothing but a phone that suddenly feels useless.
By the second week, I'd developed a mental map.
This coffee shop accepts TNG. That nasi kandar place doesn't. The fruit seller near my house has a faded DuitNow sticker, but when I tried to use it, the transaction failed. Twice.
"Connection problem," he shrugged. "Better just pay cash next time."
I didn't have cash. So I didn't buy fruit.
The app crashes were another thing I hadn't anticipated.
One evening, I was at a petrol station. Tank full. Phone out. Ready to pay.
I tried closing it, reopening it. Nothing. The screen just spun.
I ended up borrowing RM50 from a stranger and transferring it back to him via another app. It worked, but barely. And the whole thing took ten minutes.
Not exactly the seamless future I'd imagined.
Current cashless payment platforms like Touch 'n Go do not allow immediate cashout, and as such are not ideal for small-time business owners who are in dire need of cash, says Malay Mail
I read that in an article about hawkers and suddenly understood why so many of them hesitate to adopt e-wallets. If your livelihood depends on having money in hand at the end of the day, a system that holds your earnings for a few days isn't just inconvenient. It's a risk.
Before the Covid-19 outbreak, some small businesses, such as hawkers, appeared less than keen on cashless systems, fearing that merchants would be required to pay additional fees to access payment platforms.
The problem isn't just consumer behaviour. It's infrastructure. It's trust. It's the gap between what the apps promise and what actually happens when you're standing at a stall in Chow Kit at 7pm.
By Week Three, I'd started cheating.
A friend lent me RM20 for a char kuey teow that I couldn't pay for digitally. I borrowed coins from a colleague for parking at an older building. I kept a secret RM10 note in my car, "just in case."
The experiment was supposed to prove I could go fully cashless.
Instead, it proved I couldn't.
I talked to my father about it one evening. He laughed.
"You young people think everything can be solved with a phone," he said. "But what happens when the phone dies? Or the internet is down? Or the makcik selling your breakfast doesn't care about your QR code?"
He had a point. And it wasn't about being old-fashioned.
Cash doesn't need a signal. Cash doesn't crash. Cash doesn't require the other person to have downloaded the same app or verified their account.
There's a reason it's survived this long.
That said, I don't think the future is cash-only either.
E-wallet usage in Malaysia rose to 88% in 2024, up from 63% in 2023. In the last quarter of 2024 alone, usage hit 94%.
More hawkers are coming on board. Many food court vendors now display QR codes for cashless options, and some say the platforms are convenient and hassle-free.
The shift is happening. Just not evenly.
What I learned from the experiment wasn't that cashless is bad. It's that Malaysia exists in two realities at once.
There's the Malaysia of malls and apps and tap-to-pay convenience. And there's the Malaysia of kedai runcits with handwritten prices, pasar pagi aunties who only trust what they can hold, and old parking meters that still want coins.
Neither is going away anytime soon.
On the last day of my experiment, I went back to that kopitiam. The one where I'd been turned away on Day Four.
The nasi lemak was good. Sambal had the right kick. Egg fried just the way I like it.
The makcik didn't recognise me. But I recognised her. And I understood a little better why she runs her stall the way she does.
Sometimes the old ways aren't resistant to progress.
Sometimes they're just what works.