In Missouri, for instance, 94,883 people claimed unemployment benefits through debit cards from Central Bank. Analysts say a recipient uses a card an average of six to 10 times a month. If each cardholder makes three withdrawals at an out-of-network ATM, at a fee of $1.75, the bank would collect nearly $500,000. If half of the cardholders also dial customer service three times in any given week (the first time is free; after that, it's 25 cents a call), the bank's revenue would jump to more than $521,000. That would yield $6.3 million a year.
Rachel Storch, a Democratic state representative, received a wave of complaints about the fees from autoworkers laid off from a suburban St. Louis Chrysler plant. She recently urged Gov. Jay Nixon to review the state's contract with Central Bank with an eye toward reducing the fees.
"I think the contract is unfair and potentially illegal to unemployment recipients," she said.
Retired airman Stan Still, 76, from Cirencester, Gloucestershire, said his name had been "a blooming millstone around my neck my entire life".
"When I was in the RAF my commanding officer used to shout, 'Stan Still, get a move on' and roll about laughing," he said.
"It got hugely boring after a while."
Sean McGinlay and Natalie King of Glasgow's Hilton Grosvenor hotel measured their pancake tower at 29.5 inches (75cm) - beating the current title by 0.4in.
The chefs mixed about 100 eggs, more than 17 pints of milk, 11lbs of flour and 6.6lbs of butter for the challenge, a hotel spokeswoman said.
The hotel's general manager Stuart Nelson said: 'It was a bit shaky towards the end but somehow we managed to pull it off.
"I was just along for the ride. I had no idea what was going on," he said.
"I heard and saw the snap. I definitely felt the impact, and I was underwater. Once I checked and made certain I could still move and everything was working I felt I needed to get out of the water.
He was able to walk to shore, and paramedics took him to Southwest Washington Medical Center in Vancouver.
The building's steel skeleton is now a brightly colored, seven-story monument to scores of children receiving treatment at the clinic - Lia, Alex, and Sam; Taylor, Izzy, and Danny. For the young cancer patients, who press their noses to the glass to watch new names added every day, the steel and spray-paint tribute has given them a few moments of joy and a towering symbol of hope.
Yesterday, crawling on their stomachs in the bitter cold and whipping winds, the ironworkers looked down at the latest batch of names posted in the walkway window. Looking up at them were Kristen and her sisters, Cathryn, 5, and Hannah, 3, who have been accompanying her to chemotherapy. They pointed as the ironworkers painted the girls' names onto the side of a 4-ton I-beam and hoisted it on to the seventh floor.
"She'll always be a piece of this building, which is a good feeling to have," Elizabeth Hoenshell said, holding Kristen. "They don't have to do this, the guys. They could just do their job and do a good job at it and give us a building that we can get treatment at, but they go the extra step and that's huge."
