While withdrawing some cash this afternoon to tip the movers tomorrow morning, I noticed that my bank account had suddenly shrunk in size quite a bit overnight. Alarmed, I went inside the bank and told a teller I wanted to double-check the amount in my account. She took my name and account # and said, “You have [very small amount] in your account.”
“But that can’t be,” I said. “I just checked it yesterday and I had [still a small amount, but decidedly more than I have today and definitely enough to pay the moving company tomorrow].”
She went on to tell me that two debit card purchases had been made early this morning for pretty big amounts of money.
“Those aren’t mine!” I said, freaking out, “I didn’t make those purchases!!”
“Did you make any purchases after 5 last night?” she asked.
“No!” I said, “I haven’t made any purchases in the last week except for $80 in groceries! And maybe some lipgloss, but come on, a girl needs her lipgloss.”
“Well, there were two purchases made with your card sometime between 5 PM last night and noon today,” the teller replied.
Suddenly realizing that my identity was probably stolen–or at least my debit card number–I turned white as a sheet and started hyperventilating.
“Oh my god!” I wailed, “Someone has definitely stolen my identity! I cannot believe this is happening. Someone has stolen my identity and is charging up all my cards. Oh my God!”
“Don’t worry, calm down, it’s going to be okay,” the teller said. “This happens. We’ll put a freeze on your account and we’ll close the card. You can dispute the payments from this morning and file a report with the police. It’ll be okay.”
“I’m going to be sick,” I replied, “I have to go home and be sick.”
My apartment is just half a block from the bank, so I ran home, threw up, splashed cold water on my face and went back to the bank. The teller closed my card and put a freeze on my account and again told me everything would be fine and I needed to just calm down.
“But I’m not going to have any money to pay the movers tomorrow now!” I told the teller, “I don’t know what to do. If there’s a freeze on my account and I can’t get into it and there’s hardly any money in there now anyway, what am I going to do? They won’t give me my stuff! I need my stuff! I’ve been without it for almost 6 months.”
Then it dawned on me. I’d already paid the movers. I gave them my card number last week. Those two transactions from my account this morning? One had to be for storage and the other was for the move. I hadn’t realized they were going to process the payment before they delivered my things so when I saw a shrunken bank account, I freaked out. And by “freaked out,” I mean I closed my card, froze my account, claimed identity theft, and threw up. Because my bank account was so small.
You know how I was so embarrassed the other day when I had to ask a stranger where the Dance Dance Party Party room was? Yeah, DOES NOT EVEN COMPARE.