After dinner at Niko Nikos and a trip to Half Price Books to buy some travel guides for the pending trip to the Grand Canyon, I decided to do a night deposit at the bank. I had two fairly sizable checks to deposit and didn’t want to carry them around in my bag any longer. My car idled behind a woman at the ATM/night deposit who was taking FOREVER. I was silently (and out loud, too) cursing this woman’s turtle pace. COME ON, lady, how long does it take to MAKE A DEPOSIT?!? Then I pulled up to take my turn and realized I didn’t know the first thing about doing a night deposit at one of these machines. Do I have to put my card in, or can I just stick the envelope into the machine? I tried, in vain, to stick my deposit where the sun don’t shine, but the machine wouldn’t accept it. Ends up you do have to use your card. So I’m hustling through my transaction because I’ll be damned if I’m going to take the amount of time the woman in front of me took (go go GO). I breeze through the on screen stuff, the machine eats my envelope, I grab my deposit slip and off I go. Only I left something behind. A little thing called a VISA check card. You know, a debit card that doubles as a credit card and can be used online with little to no trouble. Yeah, that thing. Left it sitting in the freaking machine.
I’m not thinking about my card on the way home. A) I have to pee and B) I’m in that post-book purchase euphoria that’s such a wonderful feeling. My drug. Car in the garage, bathroom, change into something more comfortable and the phone rings. Don’t know the number, it’s on the home phone and no one calls me on that except people asking for money. Let it go to call notes. A few minutes later, there’s a message. Listen to it. It’s a woman who’s not sure if she has the right Crystal Jackson or not. She found a check card in the ATM at her bank and has it if I want to come get it…
Are you kidding me? I can’t believe that I, queen of the anal retentive and sufferer of OCD, left my check card someplace. Normally, I’d have checked that space in my wallet at least once, if not more often than that, on the drive home. As I said, I was distracted. So this wonderful human being, this fan-fucking-tastic woman, has my check card and lives fewer than ten minutes from me. I get dressed again and stop to buy her a bottle of wine – the little Fiesta on 14th is on the way, so the “nicest” bottle there is a $20 bottle of Sterling Vineyards, which is fine. Somehow just in that short conversation over the phone, I could tell she’d be into red more than white. I buy cabernet.
She lives in one of those new three-story things in a gentrifying neighborhood off Washington. She is very attractive, probably close to my age, urban professional and definitely has no reason to start using my check card for her own purchases. So I’m keeping my card as is (rather than cutting it up and getting a new one). I hope she enjoys the bottle of wine. I’m going to enjoy feeling good about people for a little while. Not everyone is a self-centered asswipe. There are good people out there. Guess I just needed a reminder. And a reminder to not be so fucking impatient all the time. It’s okay to idle just a little while longer in line at the ATM. It’s okay. Deep breath.