One of the most horrible feelings in the world is the nausea-inducing panic of losing something that’s necessary to function and is a pain in the ass to replace.
Note that anything necessary to function is usually a pain in the ass to replace, although the key to the shed in the back where you keep the ladder that you only need once a year is an exception.
Since gas prices are rising (again) here in Southern California, I’ve opted to commute on my bicycle whenever possible in order to avoid pump-induced nausea and anger.
I really do enjoy riding the bike. Not only is it more economical, but I see a lot more interesting stuff when I’m not sealed in the car singing along to a certain teenybopper pop icon who keeps putting his feet into his adorable almost post-adolescent mouth.
The downside of bike commuting is that, in a way, it’s not as easy as driving. Instead of picking up the purse and locking the doors, I have to dig the locks (plural, since I’d like to keep said bike) out of my panniers, find a place to secure the bike, make sure anything that can be stolen is removed (bike computer, water bottle, super expensive blinky headlight that can blind astronauts in space), and then schlep the whole mess into wherever it is I’m going.
Sometimes I forget a step and leave something on the bike. Usually it’s the computer, but sometimes it’s the water bottle – call me paranoid but I feel weird about drinking from it after it’s been out in the world unsupervised – and sometimes it’s something more important.
The other day, I ran errands for most of the day, making numerous stops to pay bills, grocery up, work in the garden, plot the demise of those goddamn squirrels, etc..
When I got home and discovered that I needed olives (hey, it’s not a martini without one), I dug in said panniers for my wallet.
Nothing. I dug again.
I did that thing where I slapped my pockets.
So, since I’m a sensible adult, I did the right thing and immediately called and cancelled my debit card.
I then sat a moment, thought about where I’d been and decided to retrace my steps.
First stop, the Whole Foods in Westwood.
Where the very nice lady at the customer service desk handed me the wallet that some kind person had turned in. Including the cards.
The worst part is that, since I technically did the right thing by cancelling the card, I couldn’t even be mad at myself. Just sheepish and grateful that there are still a few honest folks left in the cold, cruel world.
This morning, I went to the credit union and enquired about a replacement debit card, expecting to get the thing about waiting 10 days while they mailed it, etc.. Also, I wondered if they’d give me a refresher course in how to write a check, since it’s been so long I think I forgot.
“Sure thing!” the teller responded. “Fill out some paperwork and I’ll print one out right now.”
Turns out, they can print cards now. Actual credit cards. That work.
They didn’t even charge me a service fee.