So, Sunday was well on its way to being done. I had made many mistakes and had worked my way through my list of things to do. One of them was ‘banking’.
(Sidebar: you will need to know that when I go through the mail, I tear up things that I don’t need anymore: envelopes from bills, junk mail, flyers, etc. It signifies that it is headed for the trash.)
I grabbed the box thing that lives on the side of the fridge that holds the financial stuff. (I am not great at financial stuff.) I sat down in front of the t.v. to get some checks ready to deposit. (We let that kind of stuff go a looooong time.) I set aside the checks that Lloyd would need to endorse and then looked wistfully at the envelope that had held the check my Dad had given me from my Mom – my inheritance. I looked at Dad’s beautiful handwriting, thought a bunch of sad thoughts about my Mom, and with some solemnity – tore the envelope in half, then in half again. Closure.
Then I looked for the check.
Um. It was not in the stack of checks.
What?
What the …….NONONONONONONONO!!!!!
I had NOT taken it out of the envelope! The cashier’s check was INSIDE the envelope, torn into four pieces. Awash with adrenaline and dread, I frantically tried to turn back time and was distressingly unable to do so. I couldn’t think straight. All I could hear was my Dad in Colorado, giving me the envelope and telling me, “Now don’t lose that.” Well, I didn’t lose it, Dad – I TORE IT UP.
Ugh. The sickness. I stuffed the evidence into an envelope and then swore that I wouldn’t tell a soul what happened until I had it all resolved. Lloyd came home……
……and I blurted it out.
He asked what would happen and I said I didn’t know. It wasn’t the potential of the loss of money, it was the possibility that I would have to call my Dad and tell him what an idiot I had been. The worst was that I am working until close this week and there would be no chance to go to an actual bank.
I did not sleep well that night.
On Monday one of the college students was hanging out at the Center for a short break, and I asked if she could clock in and cover for me. I quickly drove to the bank and threw myself on their mercy. The check – thankfully – was not damaged beyond repair and the teller taped it back together and deposited it. I almost cried with gratitude, and thanked God profusely the whole way back to work.
Tuesday is the day I call and chat with my Dad, and because I have a deep need to confess everything I do, I told him.
He laughed and laughed! I love my Dad. 😀
Kristi says
Ugh! That’s an awful feeling when you can’t “fix” it right away.
So glad your bank could make things right.