Lets face facts here, I am not a financially responsible person. In fact, I am diametrically opposed to such a title. If there were a title for a guy like me, it would be really long and take up too much space, include a few swear words, and in general could be summed up with something simple like this: I am completely incompetent when it comes to matters of money.
D, on the flip side, is ridiculously meticulous with the ledger books. I'm not sure how she got this way, really. From the horror stories of her past financial dealings, I don't know that she was really much better than me. But some how, some way, she grew up in this area. And now, at any given time, she can track our finances to the penny. And she does it all with a pencil and paper.
So, given these two examples, of financial greatness and fiscal incompetency, its really a wonder to me that she ever trusts me with anything financial.
(Que the dream sequence chimes as we fade to the scenario of a few days ago....)
There I was, getting ready to run a few errands with Ben and D asked me to stop by the bank and, (a) deposit a check, and (b) withdraw twenty dollars. Seemed simple enough at the time. And like most people on earth, we have more than one account. So she specified which account she wanted it in and which account she wanted the twenty to come out of (which was the same account; again, simple enough).
So I put on the charm, flashed my winning smile, and reassured her that her worries were for naught, and I would make sure and put everything where it was supposed to go. The boy and I then left, check in hand, and went to the bank. I pulled up, went to the ATM, inserted my card and found myself taking a pop quiz.
"In to which account would like to deposit this check?"
Since when did going to the ATM involve multiple choice questions? And of course, the accounts are labels by nothing but numbers. It might have well asked, "What is the square root of 432,444,541,937?"
So I panicked. And I made my choice. I thought, for the moment, I made the right choice. I so overwhelmed by the task at hand, and then so relieved I had made the "right" choice I completely forgot to get the twenty out. So I had to re-insert my card and start a new ATM transaction.
"From which account would you like to withdraw twenty dollars?"
Another multiple choice question. This time, though, for some reason that is unknown to the universe at hand, I didn't even balk at the question and simply made a choice (which, in hind sight, was the wrong one). And I moved on to take Ben to a promised dinner of just he and Dad.
It was about five minutes later when there was a thunderstorm of activity in my brain that said, "Hey stupid, you are really stupid!!" I then found myself looking at the receipts from the two transactions and realized none of the numbers matched the consectutive transactions like they should have.
Now, in theory, this really should be a simple thing to fix. Hop on the internet, log on to said bank web site, and make a few balance transfers. Boom! Done! No hastle! Right??
Remember, that was nothing more than a theory; and as we all know, theories are often proved to be wrong. Like mine just above. For the one who does everything twice its a lot more complicated than that, and the tone in her voice as I described what happened told me all I needed to know.
Funny how these things work really. In a rather abrupt and somewhat unfinished feeling closing to this post, I'll end by saying this: D is quite the accountant. And I owe my generally good financial situation to her and her alone.
So for that, I'll take the grumpiness when I manage to send things a fowl in the banking department.