I Didn’t Even Have to Swallow!

So after I wrote my previous post, I called the treasurer back and got the bank info.  I girded my loins (whatever the hell that means!!) and grimly headed to the bank.  I walked into the bank manager’s office and took a seat, waiting for her to finish her phone call.  I was feeling like a woman headed for the guillotine.  For $500, you can eat an awful lot of cake.

She hung up, gave me her full attention and I crumbled.  Told her about our wonderful trip to Savannah.  Told her how the evil Girl Scout empire would not take a personal check.  Told her about miscalculating the fees and thus charged the entire thing to my credit card.  Told her I had TORN UP THE CHECK!!!!

She looked at me bemusedly.  “Well, we can fix that,” she said.

I nearly fell out of my chair.  The thought that I would not have to do a lapdance for the bank president made me positively giddy.

“What’s the check number?” she asked, fingers poised over the keyboard.

My elation vanished as quickly as it appeared.  The check number was on the check, which had been obliterated by me.  This was the whole reason I was here.

“Uh, uh, I have no idea,” I stammered, feeling my panic return.  “It’s in the bottom of the Jefferson county landfill.”  I heard the bells tolling in the distance; they tolled for me.

“Well, let me see if I can find it on your account.  There should be a copy.”  She tapped away at her keyboard, I poised tensely on the edge of my seat, ready to do whatever she needed me to do, including but not limited to:  washing her car; washing her cat; washing her clothes; or even dismembering an old boyfriend.  There was nothing I wouldn’t do to get back our cookie money!

“Ah here it is,” she said a few minutes later.  “Now I just have to call this company and make sure it hasn’t been cashed and then put a stop payment on it.”

“I’m sure it hasn’t been cashed,” I told her wryly, “unless the rats in the landfill managed to reconstruct it and get it to the bank.”

I left with her assurances that it would all be over soon and she would call me.  I went off to lunch with Teensy and Wendi, with my cell phone in hand, waiting for her call.  I had a perfectly dreadful lunch which I then got free, with a complimentary piece of roulage thrown in for appeasement.  But still, no call.

Finally, I called her when I got home.  “Oh, didn’t you get my message?” she asked.  “I just left you one on your cell.  The check should be ready either tomorrow or Monday.”

So all’s well that ends well.  We will get our money back and I won’t have to get a job to pay back the cookie money.  I feel a bit like a government official, minus the bad hair and the sleazy love interest.  And, unlike government officials,  I usually don’t make the same mistake twice.  Certainly, now I know NEVER to throw away a cashier’s check!  Lesson learned!!   Thank you for all your kind comments and support. 



  1. Posted August 16, 2007 at 7:07 pm | Permalink

    Yay! Don’t be surprised if the bank deducts a stop payment charge from the refund — but it’s still better than being out $500.

  2. Nancy S
    Posted August 17, 2007 at 7:39 am | Permalink

    “To gird your loins during the Roman Era meant to draw-up and tie your lower garment between your legs as to increase your mobility and agility.” This is straight from dictionary.com

    Isn’t technology wonderful! Without a computer, you might have gotten your money back, but they would have had to sift through a pile of old receipts and who knows how long that would have taken. In the meantime, the credit card bill would have come, and Tim would have made you get a job to pay for it.

  3. Posted August 17, 2007 at 12:51 pm | Permalink

    My dear precious and precocious author of this blog, I wish it were not necessary to clog your blog with my utterly boring and private comment just because I don’t have a way to send it to you by email and have you block the sender, but I must.

    I’ve told you before and I now repeat: YOU are an incredibly humorous writer — no less than Mac Hyman (how’s that for a last name?) who wrote the book “No Time For Sergeants” or the long deceased editor of the Thomasville (AL) Times who wrote a weekly column called “Ramblin’ Roses and Flyin’ Bricks ” (http://www.thethomasvilletimes.com/news/2007/0816/Op_Editorial/014.html)
    which was later turned into a few mostly unread but highly treasured by me very tiny books of humor, Earl Tucker (who was incidentally related to Alabama’s famous story teller Kathryn Tucker Windham and her son, another great teller of tales, the editorial page editor of the Tuscaloosa news, Ben Windham).

    After all of the links and things in parentheses are you still following my ramblin’?

    Anyway, if you will put your writings into books, I’ll buy them.

    And furthermore, if you don’t want me messin’ up your blog like this again (at the risk of being inundated with propositional emails from your many interesting and provocative female readers) if you will send me an email to onegood2go@yahoo.com then I’ll be able to send crap like this to you by email which you can quickly delete and not even have to read.

  4. dailydiatribes
    Posted August 17, 2007 at 1:41 pm | Permalink

    Don, you are so sweet. I clicked on your link, sent you an email, and it promptly came back. Perhaps it is a sign from God and it was just not meant to be! sigh!! And you do know how to turn a girl’s head!

  5. Kiki
    Posted August 18, 2007 at 1:58 pm | Permalink

    I knew you’d get the money back. Thank God! Anyway, when are you going to post again?! I get bored here. Waiting for them to turn the water off to fix the plumbing…

  6. Posted August 19, 2007 at 11:10 am | Permalink

    I must be on God’s “Disfavored Reprobates” list. 🙂

    Which makes me even more thankful to Kathy who sends me emails at times.

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