For about an hour this morning I was totally in a Philadelphia. For those of you who are not Camille- I mean, for those of you not familiar with David Ives, “The Philadelphia” is the funniest short play ever.
The basic definition of being in a Philadelphia is that whatever you want, you can’t get. Go to the store for something and they won’t have it, order something at a restaurant and they don’t serve it, try to get somewhere and you can’t get there from here. The only way to get out of it is to ask for the opposite. Want beer? Ask for eggnog.
Today I woke up and decided to close my WaMu business acct. I’d opened it several years ago to handle my freelance business so I wouldn’t mix it up with my personal account. I stopped doing freelance and therefore stopped using the account months ago so I decided to close the account and get my whole $5.54 out. It wasn’t gaining interest so it could at least be serving a higher purpose, like buying me breakfast tacos.
So I drop by WaMu at about 9.30am thinking it will be a 5-10 minute operation and then I will have breakfast tacos. So I sit at the desk of the nice man and tell him that I no longer need the account since I don’t do freelance. He told me they had another account I might be interested in, but I said no thanks and he wasn’t pushy. We chatted about having jobs we love and he asked me to sign here and he goes to the teller to get my $.
He comes back and tells me that he can’t get the money, because there’s some kind of fee or something. I said, “What?” because it’s a free checking account and I haven’t used it in about 6 months and I just got the statement 2 days ago and it was the same as it is every month. I don’t even keep the debit card in my wallet. There’s no way I can have a fee. He explains that apparently I made a deposit that was reversed and now my account was in the negative.
“What deposit? Why was it reversed?”
“I’m looking . . . a deposit of $5.54.”
“Why would I deposit $5 into a checking account?”
“I don’t know . . .”
“Is there a date?” I peek at the screen. “Today?? Apparently I deposited $5 into my account today?? What time?”
“7:51am.”
“Whatever, I was sleeping.”
“Let me talk to my manager.”
He comes back. “Unfortunately ma’am, this isn’t something we can take care of at this level. I’ll have to call and have someone else look at it and if there are any funds remaining they will send you a cashier’s check.”
I’m in utter disbelief. “I’m sorry, did you just say if there are any funds remaining?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“There are. There are 5 dollars and 54 cents in that account that I haven’t touched in 6 months.”
Now I just feel like an idiot. Or a little kid: I want my five dollars!! NOW! Wah! He says he understands and gives me a lollipop. Just kidding, he gives me his business card and says he’ll call me if he needs to, otherwise I should get the check in 3-5 business days.
So I left. Too fucking weird. Dave and I had plans to go to the beach, so I went home to get my stuff and load the latest This American Life onto my iPod so we could hear it in the car. I download it and drag it to my iPod. The progress bar does its thing and I look on my iPod and it’s not there. I do it again and no podcast. By now I know I’m in a Philadelphia and give up.
I call Dave to tell him I’m on my way but of course I get his voicemail.
Anyway, I pick him up, breakfast taco-less and he says, “Well, let’s stop by my parents’ bank and I’ll cash this check from them.”
Which of course he can’t because they just deposited a check and now there’s a hold on their account.
He said, “Let’s just go to an ATM and I’ll get cash for breakfast tacos.” I said no because if we go there they’ll have decided to stop serving breakfast early.
The rest of the day was fabulous. The beach was more disgusting than usual, but whatever. We didn’t swim in it. We had lunch on a patio (not cheesesteak) and rode the ferry and saw a bunch of dolphins, so I was happy. Then we went home and swam in his pool for the rest of the afternoon.
On the way home we were driving up Broadway which had like 30 lights in 5 miles all timed exactly right to make me slam on my brakes to stop at each one. I started to bitch, but Dave was like, “Jen, the Philadelphia . . .” So I was like, “Okay, from now on I want ALL red lights! Not yellow, not green, RED.”
At which point I must have started manifesting them, so I gave up.
LOL, I love you Jen.