For those of you who thought my car saga was good- this week it all got even better.
So, Monday was a mess. Really. I was up early. Out early. Out all day. My kitchen clock, car clock, and watch were all wrong- instead of being early to class I was two minutes late. My last class was awful. Then I had this whole credit-card problem.
See, when I'd left that morning I'd stuck all the cards I was likely to need in my pocket. They were snug in my jeans- I was conscious of them all day. After classes I went to the school store to buy textbooks. The guard told me to leave my backpack at the door. I was hesitant at first since my backpack is the equivalent of my purse- but then I remembered I had my cards in my pocket (and yes, they do take credit-cards), so went on in and I picked up my books. But when I went to pay- lo and behold my cards were gone! And not just my credit-card. All my cards. My pocket was empty.
I searched- I retraced my steps to the student's lounge where I'd gone on-line. There were my cards sprawled out on the floor... my Student-ID... my Driver's License... my two twenty-dollar bills... But no credit-card. No credit-card with my cash to pay for my next school semester on it.
Oh. Oh. No.
I went to Security first- let them know, etc, then found a phone and got in touch with my bank to cancel my card. I hate those automated machines. They're colossally stupid. At last I got somebody (body is the key word there) in the Fraud/Stolen department. They were eager to help- just as soon as they have my 16 digit card number. Uh, I don't HAVE my number, it's on the CARD that's stolen.
What about my SS? :deep breath: Here, I am polite. But I was not thinking very polite things. (I don't like SS numbers either. I think they smell of Communism). Do people really memorize their SS numbers? And how many students carry their SS card around in their backpack all day? 'Cides, even if I knew it, I wouldn't give it to you, person. (I was getting rather upset. Especially when they sent me to another machine... which sent me to another person who wanted my 16 digit card number...)
I hung up. I decided to go to my on-line account to find my number. But for some odd reason my on-line account doesn't have my account number anywhere on it. So much for on-line accounts. I am never going paperless.
Here, my tired brain did something rather strange. I called my Mom. And as the words formed in my mouth I realized I was asking her to go to my purse to check my, uh, credit-card for the 16 digit number.
"Mom, can you... just... go to my room... and... on my dresser... in the pouchy thing... is... my?... yeah. Thanks Mom."
Yes. I remember my thinking now: credit-card in the pocket equals bad idea. I'd left it at home. My credit-card was still at home. I've never felt so simultaneously stupid and relieved at the same time. I laughed. And cried.
"Come home, dear."
The sky was still blue. I trudged down the mountain to the parking lot... to my car...
My key didn't work. It had gotten twisted. Thank goodness I had already cried.
I DON'T KNOW HOW IT GOT TWISTED!!! I expect I had earlier unlocked the car too hard. Or something. In any case the key wouldn't go in and I risked snapping the key in the ignition. I brought the key to Security- they got a policeman (the policeman had a guy with pliers) and we watched anxiously as the handy-man gently untwisted my key. Then the policemen escorted me down to the parking lot to make sure it worked ok- (I hoped he didn't notice my lack of a front license plate... I decided not to mention to him that he forgot to buckle his seat-belt). Somehow I ended up mentioning the ordeal with the credit-card. He'd heard about it. "Oh, so you called that in..." I am well on my way to becoming a public nuisance.
The key was fixed. The car started.
Whew. What a day. As I drove home I thought with a wry grin, "All I need now is to get a ticket..."
I didn't get a ticket. But that night I had nightmares about getting tickets which was just as bad.
The next day I went out to my school for books and art supplies. I went the wrong way several times. (I'm horrible with directions. I have a lot of directional sense- but no sense of geography. "I wonder if I should turn left here---" Woosh! It's gone.Yep. I should have turned left.)
I finally asked a policeman for directions to the back parking-lot. Drawing attention to myself might not have been a good idea- but it worked out alright. When I left later and passed by the policeman again he stopped me and asked, "Where's your front license plate?... ... I could give you a ticket for that!" He didn't give me a ticket. :-D Maybe it was my convincing explanation- but then maybe it was because I had asked him for directions. :-D
So that was my first half of the week. Wait till you hear about today.
[See Part 2]