My most recent text message (sent to Toney): “Humanity is a shithouse.” I can’t tell you what prompted it, because Big Brother is watching, but it had something to do with soft pretzels. In any case, I like the ring of it. It might make a good book title. You know, after I finally hole up in a cabin somewhere and crank out my thousand-page manifesto?
Stay tuned. The pressure is building. Humanity is a Shithouse has been many years in the making.
I’ve mentioned that our bank is located in Hollywood, California. It’s a credit union for people in the entertainment industry, which we joined shortly after relocating to SoCal in 1996. It’s the best bank we’ve ever encountered — few aggravations, and low fees. We loved it, and decided to just keep it when we moved here.
It’s not a problem 99% of the time — your bank no longer needs to be down the street — but occasionally it’s a little inconvenient. Like when we receive an actual paper check, for some reason. We have to mail it to California, which seems ludicrous.
So, a few years ago we opened an account at a local credit union. It’s almost never used, but if we need it… it’s there. Our paychecks still go into the California joint account, and I have another California account for my website/book stuff. I basically live off website/book revenues, and my regular pay goes into the general fund, and is managed by Toney. It works for us.
Anyway, on a whim I checked the local account a few days ago, and was surprised to see there was $112 in there. Interesting. Usually it’s something like $4.16. I decided to buy lunch off this new-found fortune, and extend my pocket cash a bit.
I went to Wendy’s, ordered a chicken samblich combo, and handed the woman the appropriate bank card.
“Uh oh,” she said, after swiping it. “It only went through for $2.36. There’s a balance due, for some reason. I’ve never seen this before.”
She called over a grizzled veteran of fast food wars, and this new woman said (real loud), “Oh, yeah. This happens when the person DOESN’T HAVE ENOUGH MONEY in their account! HE JUST DOESN’T HAVE ENOUGH MONEY!! It’s not a problem, he’ll just have to pay the balance some other way.”
Um, could you ease back on the volume, bitch? Is that possible? Jesus. It felt like I was on stage at Radio City Music Hall, in a production of the Giant Loser Jamboree.
I got an idea. “What?” I shouted, in an indignant tone. “There is over three thousand dollars in that account!” A blatant lie, but it felt good.
Then I pretended to be irritated, but resigned to the inevitable idiocy I’m forced to endure. And I whipped out three $20 bills, so everyone could see them (I was practically waving them around), and handed one to the cashier. “That should cover it,” I said.
I feel my performance was a bit over-the-top, but effective. The setting did not call for a nuanced approach. I was ordering deep-fried chicken across a counter.
Sheesh. It was humiliating, but I think I saved a little face. It turned out that Toney deposited a mileage check in that account (she has to do some driving for her job), and happened to withdraw $110 between the time I looked at it on my computer, and my visit to Wendy’s.
Has anything like this ever happened to you? If so, please share the pain. Use the comments link below.
And I’ll be back tomorrow.
Have a great day, my friends!