Talk to low-income people who survive by paying bills with cash or money orders and some will tell you that bank accounts are for rich people.

After hearing stories about people who get hammered with overdraft fees because they made a math error, or because the bank delayed crediting a deposit to their account, one could conclude that only the rich can afford a checking account.

Doing business with money orders, though, isn’t necessarily easier – or cheaper.

A woman called the other day a little outraged and a little stumped about what to do with a money order.

Ann Zebke’s son has a girlfriend who is receiving food stamps and other benefits, and let’s just say she has credit problems. She had a car repossessed in another state where she was going through a divorce, and when she lent her debit card to a friend, that person spent more than expected. Her bank account became overdrawn and her bank closed her account.

That isn’t the end of the world, but it does make life complicated. For example, when the woman’s ex-husband sent her a child-support payment, he used a money order.

No problem, Zebke thought. She’d take the girl, whose car isn’t running, to her credit union, have the girl sign the money order over to her and cash it. But no, the credit union didn’t accept third-party checks or other instruments.

So Zebke suggested the girl try to open an account at the credit union, but because of her credit problems, she was turned down.

The two then went to a grocery to cash the money order, but the store wouldn’t take it. This isn’t unheard of. In fact, some money-order companies openly acknowledge that some of their agents who sell money orders don’t necessarily cash them.

Finally, the two went to a check-cashing store where an employee announced the fee to cash the $300 money order was $44. Outraged, Zebke called me. I suggested she shop around. There’s got to be a better deal than that.

It turned out the $44 fee was a mistake. A $300 payday loan cost $44 right away – and more if it isn’t paid on time.

In reality, the fee to cash the money order was $15, a lot less than $44, but still 5 percent of the value of the money order.

Zebke called another check-cashing store, where she was told the fee was 4 percent, or $12. Another wouldn’t cash a money order of more than $200.

Finally, Zebke found a place on Broadway that would cash the money order for $3 after it verified the money order was good. Not a bad deal.

The city, realizing that there are a lot of low-income people who have no checking accounts, has proposed a program to work with banks to create low-cost checking accounts for people who have never had accounts or lost them because they made a lot of banking errors.

That’s the perfect solution to someone like Zebke’s friend. But the plan is still in the talking stage, so people who rely on money orders and check-cashing businesses don’t have much of an alternative right now.

Until a local program is put in place to give people an alternative, the lesson is that it pays to shop around. People look for the best deals on credit cards and checking accounts. It’s just common sense.

When people have limited transportation, though, they become part of what could be called a captive audience.

The only way to shop around can involve either several miles of walking or several dollars in bus fares. If the closest check-cashing service charges 5 percent to cash a check or money order, it’s easy to assume that everyone else charges about the same.

That can be a costly assumption.