I quickly hand the cashier my credit card, trying to wrap my head around this thing. After getting my receipt, I walk out of the store, rummaging through my purse some more. No transaction receipt from the ATM either. I probably just stuck in that deposit envelope and drove away, sunglasses on and hair flying in the breeze. Idiot.
I easily peel out of the parking lot, like an over-ripe banana. Only you know, if the banana were silver-gray and had four wheels. I'm crossing the overpass near the freeway when this bare-footed goon slowly crosses in front of me. To be completely non PC, he's probably homeless and missing some nuts and bolts. Unfortunately, the ones I bought at Home Depot earlier won't do him any good. He finally gets across to the sidewalk, completely oblivious to the fact that nine cars in either lane have piled up, waiting for his idiotic crossing. Meanwhile, I'm trying to remember how much money I have in my checking account that I could be getting robbed out of right now. Somewhere, someone could be racking up dollars worth of expensive pink lingerie or plasma TVs.
As soon as I get home I rush to my computer to Dex online to look up the number of the bank I was at. It's past 6, so they're probably closed. I call anyway. Lame message of some mortgage agent. Instead I dial the customer service number on the back of my credit card, hoping it's the same number needed for a misplaced debit card. The automated voice wants me to punch in my card number. I want to punch the automated voice in the face. I don't know what the card number is because I don't have it anymore. Brilliant. I'm on my on-line banking, seeing if my card number is on there anywhere. It's not. There's just a bunch of Xs and then four digits. I punch in the four digits anyway. We're sorry, this number is un-recognizable.
After some waiting, I get connected with a real person. I think his name was Michael, and he had really poor enunciation. I could barely make out what he was saying. I explained the problem, and he said that he needed my bank number in order to cancel the card. BUT I DON'T KNOW IT. That's the problem. The card is missing and I bloody well don't know anything but the last four digits. Michael asks me if I have online statements. I do. Through his mumbling he advises me to open one and look in the top right corner for my number. I do. I stare at the number. Idiot.
It's a very familiar number. It's friendly, almost smiling at me. I know it better than my sister's cell phone number. I easily memorized it years ago. It's my stupid checking account number. I knew that. Somehow, in my panic, I didn't realize he needed my account number. I thought he needed the card number.
Michael, me, and his low quality speech patterns get everything squared away. He checks my account and assures me the last transaction was the deposit I made. He cancels my card and orders a new one. Then he's all I have a few questions about your other accounts, which kind of freaks me out, because I'm worried something is wrong. But instead he asks me questions about if I'm happy with my mortgage and do I want to open up a different sort of savings account? since CD rates are basically $h!t right now. I say no, but thanks for asking.
Then I re-look up the bank's number on Dex Online and get a different number. I call and Kelly answers and I tell her I left my ATM card in the machine but I already called customer service and had them cancel it. She checks the vault anyway to see if some really honest Samaritan returned my card. There isn't any. (debit cards or honest Samaritans). But Kelly tells me how if you don't say I want my card back within like, 5 minutes of your ATM transaction, the machine sucks your card back in and instantly shreds it. So you know, that's taken care of.
The short of it is I'm utterly brilliant.
*There is no such thing as Insta-Grass-Magic, but whatever I bought basically assures me that it includes a magic formula of mulch, fertilizer, and grass seed and will repair my lawn instantly.
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