Post-Apocol…errr…Easter greetings, my friends! I hope you had a delightful holiday!

I miss the days when the kids hunted for eggs instead of contact lenses and their mother’s sanity - LOL!

Yes, Daughter has joined the ranks of the Poke Yourself in the Eye Club. She got contact lenses.

She is having trouble doing something that seems unnatural (unlike her mommy - lol) such as jabbing a piece of plastic onto her eyeball. I hear, “Oops” a lot, eventually followed by sobbing and cursing, so we are returning to the optician today for additional masochism lessons.

:)

Meanwhile, MommyWorld has suffered an attack by the Evil Banking Empire. (insert The Imperial March - Darth Vader’s Theme)

My debit card with was stolen. Eaten actually.

Daughter and I went to the ATM located at the bank where the debit card reports my every move. (I’m sure it even tells them how white my whites are, and the frequency of my bowel movements.)

I inserted the card into the machine, chose “English” and the amount of dollars I wanted it to spit out. I entered my PIN number and the screen lit up with the message, “Please take your cash.”

Would that I could, since no cash was forthcoming. I waited, hearing its whirring little innards trying to grant my wish. Then silence fell. No dollars. I stared at the machine. Nutttin. I stared harder. I realized no dollars were going to leap into my hot lil’ hands, so I hit “Cancel”. Nuttin. I hit,”Clear”. The screen continued to read, “Please take your cash” which was becoming annoying since none was proffered.

I searched the machine for a phone number to contact in the event of a malfunction. There was none. I circled the bank on foot, but all of the moneychangers had left the temple. Another car pulled into the drive-through behind my car. I instructed Daughter to go tell them the machine was malfunctioning, and they backed out, to avoid being engulfed in the Sphere of Doom which I was emanating.

I attempted to call the bank. Mistakes are not uncommon with this facility, so I have their phone number on my cell phone. No one answered. The recorded message explained what numbers to select if I wanted a home mortgage, or to purchase a 10-year CD, but there was nothing in the case of the machine eating my card and holding my dollars hostage. I called the police, who told me in so many words, that I was screwed, it wasn’t their problem, and to contact the bank.

I went home and checked my online banking, which showed the transaction. I tried checking the phone book and the online site for the bank, but no matter what number I called, I was asked if I wanted a mortgage. I did not. I became an angry drunk and ranted until all of my family members cringed and fled.

In the cool light of morning I sobered up and typed out the sequence of events, printed the letter and drove to the bank. I was told that when the machine was torn apart (the thought of which gave me a thrill) that my card was not “captured”. At least it was it spared being forced into making a false confession. I however, was forced to sign an affidavit stating that I did not receive the dollars the machine had refused to spew. I was told the card would be cancelled, and a new card with a new number and new PIN would be issued in approximately two weeks.

And so goes my life. Time to go supervise more eye-poking.

Categories: Family, Humor