Swipe, swipe, swipe-Conclusion by Mary Wakeford
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of language.|
Part 2 of 2.
With the daunting task of putting together a memorable New Year's Eve wedding in three short months, I called on my bestie from the nestie for an assist.
'It' happened when we were at the register with the transaction of the rusty bunny being rung up. Kayla remarked we banked at the same institution and pulled her debit/credit out for confirmation. Her Mary carried a different last name, but they were otherwise identical in appearance. SWIPE $45.32. I blame the erroneous purchase on the cinnamon vanilla aroma wafting through our nostrils.
We found the perfect antique table for the tiered wedding cake at the second antique store of the day...SWIPE $54.00. The following evening, I received a call from Kayla, asking me to check my car for her misplaced credit/debit card. I rummaged through my car, poking every crevice between the seats, glovebox, side pockets with a flashlight, then searched every Mason jar for the errant card to no avail. I called her back and reported no luck finding her card. I sensed in her, happy optimism that it couldn't be far. She likely left it in a pants pocket. Brunhilda hoped it wasn't stolen and being used to finance illegal activities. Before ending our phone conversation, I suggested she say a prayer to St. Anthony, the finder of lost things. He always comes through for me.
I hit the ground running the following Monday morning, designed a card for my daughter's bridal shower scheduled for early December, then sped off to the post office to buy stamps for the oversized shower and wedding invitations which required extra postage for the oversized design. Brunhilda, my snarky inner voice suggested I read the small print next time on the design template to avoid wasting money on postage. Swipe $144.00.
I followed that errand with a trip to JoAnn's Craft Store for a purchase of tulle and other wedding decor. Swipe- DENIED. I turned my credit card the other direction and tried again. Swipe-DENIED. Next time I rotated the card and flipped it over. Swipe-THREE STRIKES, YOU'RE OUUUUT, BITCH!
Brunhilda snarked "This happens to you e.v.e.r.y damn time--How do you still not know which direction to swipe your card? Give the damn thing to the clerk so we can finish this transaction. I have to pee!" So I surrendered my debit card to the clerk. She swiped it, and remarked, "I'm so sorry, this card is no longer viable."
Then I remembered. I received a new debit card the week before with the expiration date updated to 2014. I fumbled around my purse and came up with the new card just as Brunhilda crossed my legs to stem the stream. SWIPE-SUCCESS!
As I approached my parked car fumbling my baggage, I hit the wrong button for unlock, popping the fuel tank lid, then trunk before getting it right. I heard Bruni moan. Once securing the lapbelt, Brunhilda snapped I should have cut the old card into pieces the minute I received the new one to avoid this kind of problem, then made a mental note to remind me to do that the minute we arrived home, after she pee'd. Then she forgot to remind me.
Later that evening, I sat at the dining room table with my daughters, addressing the oversized envelopes for the bridal shower. That's when Bruni remembered to launch the 'shred card' reminder. Caligraphy pen in hand, I asked my youngest daughter to fetch my purse, pull out the weathered debit card vs. the shiny new one, and cut it into a zillion pieces to deter potential identity theft. She did a thorough job with Operation Scissor Shred.
Tuesday brought a wedding planning day black out, with my focus directed on our youngest daughter's birthday celebration. Her request was for us to treat her to a movie, then dinner at Freddie's with the family. Easy Peasy. Plans were to enjoy her birthday cake at home following the burger fix. I anticipate my youngest daughter's wedding, won't require overpriced antique ladders, Mason jars, tulle, or stolen credit cards. Freddy's catering and a horse or two in the wedding party would satisfy the Emster's idea of a perfect wedding when her time comes, forty years from now.
As we walked to the car following the movie, I reactivated my cell phone and noticed I had three rapid-fire missed calls and a voicemail from my wedding shopping accomplice, Kayla. Her message indicated her 'lost' card was sporting fraudulent charges. I called her en route to Freddie's, madder than Hell that someone took liberty with my friend's charge card. I tried to recall the people we came in contact with at the various stops on Saturday to determine which one could have stolen her card as I returned her call describing the outrage to my husband and daughter. I admit to profiling with no obvious suspects. Brunhilda wondered if someone behind us in line could have taken a camera shot of the card when she showed it to me in antique shop #2. BREEEENG BREEEENG BREEEENG.
Me: "OMG, I just heard your message. THIS REALLY PISSES ME OFF. Do you think someone could have taken a picture of your card when you pulled it out to show it to me when I was buying the rusty bunny?"
Kayla: "Can you believe it? I don't know how it happened, because I didn't buy anything Saturday. Maybe that's what happened--I saw something on the news about that being the new thing."
Me: "Crap, we need to start memorizing our numbers and three digit codes. This is ridiculous. What did they charge to your card?"
Kayla: "A couple hundred bucks, one was in Peoria at a place called USPS for $144...I don't know what that is."
Me: "What were the initials again?"
Me: "USPS is the post office. (GASP) I was at the post office buying stamps for the invitations today--in Peoria. That's about what I spent on stamps. Oh FOOOOOOK!
Brunhilda lost it at this point, laughing hysterically between "Only you two" declarations and cerebral slapping while yelling "JAVELENA!"
Me: THAT WAS MEEEEEEE, KAYLA! OMG, HOW DID I END UP WITH YOUR CARD? Holy shit!"
Brunhilda cackled "And the win goes to St. Anthony once again."
As the story goes, Kayla arrived at the credit union shortly after my post office swipe, and before my attempted swipe at Joann's Craft store. She was accompanied by her adult son. As the bank officer reported her findings on the fraudulent charges to date, Kayla began laughing. Through her laughter, revealing the suspect; "I think my friend did this." The bank official looked at her oddly and responded, "You are taking this very well...that must be some friend." With that, more laughter, this time, her son jumped in with his two cents. "Mom, you'd kill us if we ever did something like that, why is it okay because it was Mary and not one of us kids--that is jacked up!"
Then I delivered my last salvo..."Uh, Kayla...I shredded your card into a million pieces thinking it was my expired card after being denied at JoAnn's Craft store." More laughter. This time from both of us.
Total charges on my friend, Kayla's, credit/debit card bearing MY signature - $236.00.
To this day, we have no idea how her credit card ended up in my wallet. So much for writing "SHOW ID" on the signature line on both our cards reflected.
The photo was taken when I paid up on my wedding shopping malfeasance at Freddy's following the phone call.
We'll be shopping for the same daughter's baby shower in two months--let's hope there are no javalenas or fraudulent charges involved with baby shower shopping.
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