The Gods Must Be Crazy

I’m a glass half full kind of gal, I really am. Not in an insipid Pollyanna “Grey skies are gonna clear up” type way, but I just find that I enjoy life more when I’m not playing the victim.
But c’mon, people. I’ve now been unce, tice, fee times a victim. I was taking out some mad cash this weekend, planning on blowing it at the Super Duper 40-Lane Mega Bowling Alley, because as Natasha said, “Bowling is the new karaoke.” When I saw my checking balance, it seemed off, but I’ll readily admit that I’m not the best about balancing my checkbook. So I told myself to make a mental note and check it again on Monday.
So Monday rolls around and I’m out celebrating President’s Day by working, which is obviously NOT what our forefathers had intended. Clearly Abe Lincoln wanted me to be getting 50% off all previously reduced items at Nordstrom’s, but instead, I was one of the working stiffs keeping this country running on Monday. In any case, after enjoying a nice slice of cheese and mushroom pizza at the food court, I moseyed on over to the ATM to check my balance. Now this time I was certain – it was even lower than it was on Friday, so something was up.
Of course, my initial thought was: those sunamabeetch robbers stole some of my checks, and are writing bad checks all over town! So I quickly transferred all my remaining funds over to my savings account, which even at the time I knew would do me no good since I have overdraft protection. But it somehow made me feel less helpless. I probably should’ve just pulled out the maximum amount in cash just to have it on hand, but I wasn’t thinking clearly.
As soon as I got home Monday, I called my bank (and happily, they have a 24/7 customer service desk – even on silly bank holidays!) to get a list of my recent transactions. As I was running through the list, one item in particular jumped out – a $450 check to a certain storage company in Milwaukee that is housing all the stuff I couldn’t fit in my little Chicago apartment. I thought, “Hmm. That’s odd. My monthly bill is only $45. I wonder if the bank made a data entry error.”
Oh, Jenny. Sometimes your naïveté is charming. But not right now. Now it’s just plain tiresome. The customer service rep pulled up the digital check image (I heart digital imaging. So much.), and quickly realized that someone had added a zero to the end of my $45. They didn’t bother to try to change the written part, I guess because it’s a little bit harder to turn “Forty five and 00/100 ——-“ into “Four hundred fifty and 00/100——-.”
Now, I don’t have to worry about my $405 that this certain storage company, which I should mention is a Public storage company, ripped off. Because even if they won’t pay me back, my bank will, and then sue their asses to get it back. But I just had a good laugh with that bank customer service rep. We laughed and laughed as we said to each other, “Exactly how stupid are these people? This is a nationwide chain! And they took $405 more of my money than was owed them. It was deposited into their corporate account – did they think I wouldn’t figure it out? Ha ha ha ha!”
Since I like to watch a lot of crime TV, I got all Law & Order and tried to figure out all the different scenarios: was it a dirty bookkeeper? A disgruntled employee who stole $405 in petty cash and wanted to cover it up? A really, really stupid franchise owner? Will we ever know? I can’t be sure, but I am sure that I’ll get my $405 back. And I’m also certain that, if my belongings are actually still there and I haven’t been paying for an empty storage garage for the past two years, I am most certainly not keeping them there any longer than I have to.
But what I am not certain of is this: what cosmic forces did I really piss off to have warranted a robbery, permanent deletion of half of my hard drive at work (long story, but the wounds are still too fresh to discuss), and now check forgery, all in a one month span? And more importantly, do I need to sacrifice a virgin to appease them? Because I’ll start combing the local chess clubs, I swear to you. Just say the word and point me in the direction of the Kraken.
If it weren’t for the fact that these annoying events keep giving me something to write about, I might be a little more upset about them. But let me tell you, if that certain public Storage company doesn’t give me my GD $405, I’ll release a firestorm of my own. I now have several web domains at the ready, in the event that they want to do this the hard way: www.[storage company], www.[storage company]stolemy$, www.dontdobusinesswith[storage company].net, and of course, www.ihate[storage company].org.
Hell hath no fury like a Sicilian scammed!

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