You Can Bank On It. Or Not.

There are a few areas in my life I'm rather hinky about. Oh, what am I saying, there are a myriad of areas in my life I'm rather hinky about, but one of those areas is the general vicinity of money. I mentioned this in passing a few months ago, how I'm always chided by Mr M for being so obssessed with having enough money, and hiding money, and not spending money when he thinks I should, and, really, shouldn't I be the judge of whether or not I spend my own money, but if I were, of course, I never would, and this sentence has gone on way too long already so I'll end it now.

I think that passing mention those months ago ended with, "So maybe I do think about money too much, I just don't spend too much time worrying about how I can get more money." And while that's still true, I'm becoming a little worried about holding on to the money I already have. Not in my wallet, or folded under a birthday card in my drawer, but in the bank. Yes, in the bank, the stone building with vaults and locks and guards. Or at least security systems.

I've never quite understood how banks work. Which I know makes me sound like a complete dolt, but I promise you don't understand where I'm coming from. I mean, sure, I know that you have a bank and you go put money in it and they give you this little thing called a checkbook and you can write pieces of paper from it until your money runs out. I know that, I took Banking 101. However, I must have dropped out of Banking School before I got to, oh, say, Banking 560, which is kind of where I've ended up in the Banking World. That's where the lessons get more and more complicated.

For many years, I had a bank that I loved but ended up hating. It was my One and Only Bank, the first bank I ever had a checking account in, then a savings account, it was full of really nice people, and they did a fine job of keeping my funds right there in their building for me. This bank started out as a local. Just one bank, right there in T'well, the next town over from me, which caused me to have to drive a ways for my banking business, but it was well worth it. Then this bank was bought out by a small local conglomerate, and it was still fine and had the same nice people, and I even got to go to a local branch in B'field after that. Then it was bought out by a little bigger, regional conglomerate, and though I wasn't overly happy about that I stuck around, mainly because of the nice people and the fact that, let's face it, changing banks is a major pain in the ass.

But then, several years ago, they were bought out by a huge multi-national conglomerate, and I hated this. Having the nice people around wasn't even enough for me, because two things happened that soured me on this bank right quick. First, being part of a bigass conglomerate now, they began sticking service charges on everything from having a checking account to setting up a call line to phone and ask how your funds were doing, to, well, opening their doors and walking in the building. And second, they stole $96 of my money.

OK, so $96 isn't the biggest amount of money in the world, it's under a hundred dollars and most folks would probably just write it off, but I called people (and paid to call) and went to the bank and talked to people (and paid for that too, I guess), taking bank statements and deposit receipts and everything else, and no one could tell me why I was suddenly short 96 dollars. Then I went to my nephew's Little League baseball game, and his opponent's team were wearing brand new jerseys with the name of my bank emblazoned across the backs of them, and all I could think of was my $96. And I went and got a new bank.

However, sadly, I didn't have the heart to tell the nice people at the old bank I'd dropped them from my life, and found myself overdrawn there because their checking account service charges ate up what was left of the few funds I still had lingering in there. Then I had to go in (which I'm sure I paid for), take care of a return check fee, which wasn't a return check fee because I didn't write a check, so I guess it was an "overdraft service fee," and tell those nice people I'd left them but was too afraid to let them know, then I waved a hearty farewell to them and got on with the new bank in my life.

The new bank is a local chain, several branches in the surrounding counties, and I like them, I wouldn't say they have a lot of nice people there but no one's ever been mean to me or anything. They're basically service charge-free, and I've been happy letting my funds live there and hang out with other local funds, joining the Fund PTA and having Fund Barbecues on weekends.

But for about a year and a half, strange things have been afoot in my checking account.

This all started when I went to the cash machine one day, squeezed the owl, as my little circle of friends say, and popping out along with my cash was my receipt, which showed me as having roughly $400 more than I was showing in my checkbook. I was perplexed but happy, well, warily happy, and I immediately went home to pore over the past six months of check registers to see what I'd done wrong. I'd done nothing wrong, and never went and talked to the bank people about it, figuring I'd just keep a check on things and see what happened.

And what happened? Well, nothing happened. I lived a good year-plus having the wonderful knowledge that no matter what my check register said I could be secure that I actually had an extra $400 floating around in my account, at least according to the bank, and their figures were what counted, right? I never corrected my check register, I let it stay with my math, $400 less than the bank's math. I just knew I had that $400 cushion. And believe me, it was a comfy cushion.

Then one day about six months ago, the owl needed squeezing again so I found myself at the cash machine. And this time, along with my cash, out popped my little receipt, and suddenly that $400 was gone. It was gone, vanished into thin air, I wasn't happy anymore, and again I went home to pore over check registers to see if I'd done something else wrong to make me lose this $400 that I wasn't sure I ever really had anyway. I hadn't, and when I thought it about too much it made my head hurt. So I tried not to, and my head hurt anyway, so I went back to thinking about it again, and didn't come up with any answers. Almost overnight, my cushion had been yanked out from underneath my ass, and I was sitting on the cold hard reality of having the exact amount of money my check register told me I had.

Again, I didn't go and talk to the bank people about it all, because I figured, well, how would I go in and ask about $400 I couldn't account for acquiring in the first place? I couldn't, and so I tried to be content with the fact that at least my check register was approximately balanced, which it hadn't been in about a year. But still, I couldn't stop thinking about it. Why did that $400 leave me? And why couldn't I get rid of this headache?

About a month ago, no, maybe six weeks, yes, you guessed it, to the owl again, who I actually seldom squeeze but lately his sides must be awfully sore, and out with my cash popped my little receipt. And what I saw this time, well, it's a good thing the car was in park because I surely would have wrecked had it not been, and possibly even had it been with me there in park if I wasn't such a good driver and had my foot on the brake anyway.

My receipt told me my balance was now about $150 less than my check register was telling me.

I sped home in a decidedly sickly state and got out the last several months' registers again. I pored over them again, and again, within a scant few pennies, there were no errors with my math. I was just missing $150. And I didn't know why. And basically, this is where it stands as I type. I'm $150 in the hole.

Now, maybe I should tell you at this juncture that - well, you know that little thing on the back of your bank statement that you're supposed to fill in with your checks cashed and uncashed, and credited deposits and uncredited? I don't do that. I don't know anyone who does. Does anyone out there do that? If so, well, I guess you're a more responsible person than I am, and you probably aren't given large sums of monies by your banks and then don't have them taken away from you. I always use that phone line, the one I used to have to pay for but is now free, call it up faithfully (at least in the good days) once a week, see what's been cashed and what hasn't, and make sure all the amounts I've written in my register are correct. And they are. And this recorded lady on the phone is telling me the same thing my little receipts have been telling me, that I was way flush with money and that now my money seems to have, well, been flushed. Flushed to where she's yet to tell me, but it flushed away somewhere.

About three weeks ago I was doing my weekly call-in and I got a bit of a shock. The bank phone lady gave me my balance, as she always does before we start going over my checks, and I had - now get this - a thousand dollars more in my account than I was showing. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, for one brief moment in time I was a multithousandaire. This time I knew something was wrong, so I hit the number on the keypad that gives me my latest deposits, thinking the deposit I'd made minutes ago that wasn't to be counted till the next working day had been counted early. It hadn't. They'd given me a thousand dollars extra, and man, was I loving that.

Of course, it didn't last, not more than a day or two, and the next time I called (my weekly call-ins have started going daily, or almost daily) it was gone and I was back to where I started. Well, not where I started, actually, I started with the same amount of money in the bank as in my check register, then it went way up, then way the same, then way down, and that's where I went back to. Way down.

And so I'm down. But who knows, tomorrow I may be up again. See, here's the thing. Like I said, and you'd probably believe this about me, I'm really conscious of my checkbook and the register therein. I don't miss checks, I don't forget to record owl squeezes, I know what I'm doing. I got a 4.0 in Banking 101. And I keep up with what's going on by phone. It all just happens so suddenly. It's not like I say, "Hey, I'm $40 down in my account." "Hey, I'm $60 down in my account." "By gum, I seem to be $75 down in my account." It's *whap!* "I'm $400 up on my account!" *whap!* "I'm $150 down on my account!"

And I've been wondering exactly what I missed in Banking 560. Is there a small codicil in Banking By-Laws wherein if one person is, oh, say, $400 over the limit for certain tax consequences, the bank can say, "Oh, here's Bet's account, we'll just hide it in there for a while?" Or if someone on the Bank Board is $150 overdrawn they can say, "Oh, here's Bet's account, we'll just take some from it and transfer it over?"

That must be it. Must be Banking 560. Either that, or.... Well, my nephew's now in high school, so I haven't been to any Little League games lately. Maybe I should check one out.

Betland's Olympic Update:
* First of all, let's hold the acrowinners a second. I want to make a shout-out to my own dad, whose birthday is this very day. He's 77 years old. Geezus creepers, that blows my mind. Happy birthday, Dad!
* Now - acrowinners, we have acrowinners! So, you got drunk and what did you say to the parents?
- Honorable Mention goes to Michelle, with her "Let go, freaks! Just nattering - only nattering..."
- Runner-Up goes to LilyG, with her little story: "Lily G, feeling joyful, nattered on needlessly. "Loved guy, felt jealous, now over. Nuts." "Lil? Go find just nice one -- now!"
- And this week's winner goes to Flipsycab, with her VERY bold "Lit gigangtic freakin joint. Nodding out now."
- Thanks to all who played - you make my week!