Emergency, emergency. Someone charged $70.80 on my bank debit card, and we don’t know who did it. While the bank checked out the charge, my husband, Chuck, and I had to cancel our debit cards.
Who knew our world revolved around plastic? We’ve had trouble functioning without that direct link to money in the bank.
Chuck was the first to discover the beauty of debit. For the first 25 years of our 30-year marriage, he would never write checks. He was under my total financial control. He only had the use of the bits and pieces of change I tossed his way like smelt to a seal.
I craved the power and relished my role as supreme money-doler. When they invented debit cards tied to our checking account, and Chuck learned he could buy gas, beef jerky and work boots by just flashing the beautiful plastic, our life changed.
Chuck was happy. He didn’t have to waste his precious weekly cash allowance on actual necessities. He could use his debit card for Conway Twitty CDs and socks, and save his cash for a beer after work, to bet on football pools and play darts.
For me, my spouse’s use of the debit card ruined my strict accounting process. I had to try to find out where he spent my, I mean our, money.
I check my balance every morning with the automatic phone line at my bank. Then I ask Chuck if he remembers where he spent $12, $43 or $79.
Sometimes, he remembers.
When the $70.80 charge appeared on our account, neither of us remembered making that purchase.
There is a toll-free number with the charge, but it is a screwy deal. It refers you to another toll-free number, with one digit missing on the automatic phone message so you can’t dial the next line in the mystery.
My bank is investigating the potentially bogus charge, and in the meantime we cut up our debit cards.
We are used to getting cash from the handy machine outside our bank. We get charged $1.50 to actually walk inside our bank, so as cheapskates, meeting a teller and getting $20 bills was out of the question. When Chuck tried to get gas without his debit card, he went inside the station and used our MasterCard.
We did our weekend grocery shopping at Albertsons, where we could have gotten some cash back, but we rang up our own groceries.
I ran a little scam in the self-service lane because I had two coupons expiring the next day, for $8 off $40 purchases. I scanned $40 worth first, got my $8 off, finalized the purchase, then ran through another $40 of food, to use my other $8 coupon.
What with looking for bar codes and bagging our own grub, we forgot to write the checks for cash back.
I needed gas in my Toyota and went inside to ask for help because MasterCard didn’t work at the pumps.
Spying scratch tickets, I wanted to buy a few, but I had no cash. My Avon lady took my check no problem, but she is my friend and didn’t even need to see my identification.
I used a check at Wal-Mart, and you would think I was robbing the cashier. I had to show ID and sign a form – it took three minutes with surly customers in line behind me – then they handed me back my check.
They don’t keep your paper check at Wal-Mart; the amount is electronically deducted from your checking account. At our Saturday night poker party, Chuck and I had no cash for the $5 buy-in. One of our kids took a chance on us and floated a loan, but we had to sign a note.
One morning before work, I ran into Cash and Carry in Everett. I love Cash and Carry. It’s like Costco without hot dogs out front. You can park at the front door and buy bulk foods and packages of 800 paper plates. At the checkout desk, I wrote them a check, but the clerk called the manager.
Turned out, I was not on the pre-approved check writer’s list.
I didn’t want to toss out that if my check bounced they could come and get me up the road at The Herald, so I fumbled for my MasterCard to pay for little packages of black licorice that Chuck likes to find in his lunch.
Now I have to figure out what I have spent using my MasterCard and send them a hefty payment. A debitless life is annoying. If I’ve touched you in any way, and you have extra cash, you know where to find me.
Columnist Kristi O’Harran: 425-339-3451 or oharran@ heraldnet.com.
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