Not last weekend, but the one before, I somehow managed to overdraw my checking account. (As I think about it, it may have had something to do with my not having gone to the bank for three weeks and just carting my uncashed checks around in my wallet as a reminder to eventually, you know, go to the bank and cash them.)
I have no checkbook. I've never had one. Just the card for me, thanks. This, of course, means that I use my checking account for everything: that $0.99-pack of gum, the $1.69 stick of Blistex, this $3.99 video rental (Thumbsucker - I'm just going to throw this out there right now: I love Keanu Reeves), the $1.99 bottle of chocolate milk, or, how about that $8.99 24-pack of Dr. Pepper?
I paid for all of this stuff with my check card, all while overdrawn.
So, last Tuesday, when I finally got around to the bank to make a deposit, I was somewhat concerned when I saw a seemingly innocuous negative sign put to the right of my balance. I thought about it for a while as I drove to work but couldn't make heads nor tails of it. How could I have negative $200 in my checking account? It just didn't make any sense.
As it turns out, after a little investigating, I found out what was going on, but it still doesn't make any sense. I made ten transactions after overdrawing the account, because my card was never declined. Not once. And the fucking bank charged me $22 for each one, in addition to whatever I paid. That chap stick? Yeah, that cost me $23.69, not $1.69.
I had been charged $220 in overdraft fees for transactions the final sum of which did not exceed $60. The bank was kind enough to forgive half of the fees because I "have such a good record" with them, but I was still irritated. It wasn't until last Friday that I became enraged.
Last Thursday I lost my sunglasses. Couldn't find them anywhere. I was about to drive down to American Fork (again) and I was in a hurry and distracted, so, after checking my car, I must have forgotten to lock the doors. Some time that night, some asshole got in and stole 11 CDs, my owner's manual and registration, and my garage door opener. My garage door opener! The owner's manual? What kind of sick fuck behaves like this? I can understand the CDs - I can -, but the owner's manual? That's just weird and rude.
That Friday morning, as I was making a list of all of the albums I was going to have to buy again, I couldn't escape the feeling that I had been robbed twice that week, and that I was upset not because I was shirking responsibility (I shouldn't have overdrawn my account; I should have locked my car - I get it; I agree), but because the punishment didn't fit the crime.
Shouldn't the bank have charged me the value of the goods that I had purchased instead of some arbitrary fee? Their $22-rule made me wish I would have bought a car instead of Office Space.
Shouldn't some kind of divine, karmic law only have allowed the equivalent of an unlocked door to be taken from my car? I think the change in the tray on the dash would have covered it - $1.62. (They left that, like a shitty tip, to rub it in my face, I guess.)
I suppose, in the end, the upside is that the bastards that robbed my car didn't realize that that 24-pack of Dr. Pepper behind the driver's seat was the most expensive 24-pack of Dr. Pepper ever. $220. (Almost the exact price, as it turns out, I paid to replace the CDs they took.)
That almost made me feel better about things. Almost.
I have no checkbook. I've never had one. Just the card for me, thanks. This, of course, means that I use my checking account for everything: that $0.99-pack of gum, the $1.69 stick of Blistex, this $3.99 video rental (Thumbsucker - I'm just going to throw this out there right now: I love Keanu Reeves), the $1.99 bottle of chocolate milk, or, how about that $8.99 24-pack of Dr. Pepper?
I paid for all of this stuff with my check card, all while overdrawn.
So, last Tuesday, when I finally got around to the bank to make a deposit, I was somewhat concerned when I saw a seemingly innocuous negative sign put to the right of my balance. I thought about it for a while as I drove to work but couldn't make heads nor tails of it. How could I have negative $200 in my checking account? It just didn't make any sense.
As it turns out, after a little investigating, I found out what was going on, but it still doesn't make any sense. I made ten transactions after overdrawing the account, because my card was never declined. Not once. And the fucking bank charged me $22 for each one, in addition to whatever I paid. That chap stick? Yeah, that cost me $23.69, not $1.69.
I had been charged $220 in overdraft fees for transactions the final sum of which did not exceed $60. The bank was kind enough to forgive half of the fees because I "have such a good record" with them, but I was still irritated. It wasn't until last Friday that I became enraged.
Last Thursday I lost my sunglasses. Couldn't find them anywhere. I was about to drive down to American Fork (again) and I was in a hurry and distracted, so, after checking my car, I must have forgotten to lock the doors. Some time that night, some asshole got in and stole 11 CDs, my owner's manual and registration, and my garage door opener. My garage door opener! The owner's manual? What kind of sick fuck behaves like this? I can understand the CDs - I can -, but the owner's manual? That's just weird and rude.
That Friday morning, as I was making a list of all of the albums I was going to have to buy again, I couldn't escape the feeling that I had been robbed twice that week, and that I was upset not because I was shirking responsibility (I shouldn't have overdrawn my account; I should have locked my car - I get it; I agree), but because the punishment didn't fit the crime.
Shouldn't the bank have charged me the value of the goods that I had purchased instead of some arbitrary fee? Their $22-rule made me wish I would have bought a car instead of Office Space.
Shouldn't some kind of divine, karmic law only have allowed the equivalent of an unlocked door to be taken from my car? I think the change in the tray on the dash would have covered it - $1.62. (They left that, like a shitty tip, to rub it in my face, I guess.)
I suppose, in the end, the upside is that the bastards that robbed my car didn't realize that that 24-pack of Dr. Pepper behind the driver's seat was the most expensive 24-pack of Dr. Pepper ever. $220. (Almost the exact price, as it turns out, I paid to replace the CDs they took.)
That almost made me feel better about things. Almost.
2 comments:
That's just one of the things being an English major does to you: you start to read your own life like it's a novel. If it's poetic, it almost makes up for what happens. Almost.
I used to get pissed off at my bank because of the overdraft fees which are in no way proportional to the amount overdrawn. Then I switched to a credit union (with which I accrue higher interest anyway), and applied for an overdraft line of credit in the amount of $500. So I can overdraw my account by up to $500 and never be slammed with overdraft fees. Usually I don't need it, but it's nice to have a safety net. So I recommend asking your bank if they are able to hook you up with something like that, and if not, switch to a credit union (which you might want to do anyway). The banks should be grovelling at your feet for your letting them hold your money, IMO.
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