Getting Cash

Recently, my friend Emily, who is living in Monterey, said she wanted to come up to the city and catch a band playing. Monterey is about a 2.5 hour drive away so this wasn't just a leaisurely jaunt to the city. Although for a driver in California, 2.5 hours is like not much at all. I was excited and arranged a big night with a few friends for her trip up. The band was playing on Saturday night, so we all planned to meet up late in the day on Saturday, grab some food, then go hear the show.

This would have been a rather smooth running game plan except that I discovered Saturday morning that the show was going to have a $20 cover charge, and I had about a dollar to my name. Normally, things like ATM cards have been created to allow little issues like these to not create to much of a problem. But apparently I don't like to operate on this side of normal, my guardian angel seems to find some perverse pleasure out of fucking with me. 1 week earlier my ATM card had been eaten in an ATM machine while I was getting cash.

I had already been through days of tremendous hassle with my bank about getting a new card (never even think about losing your card around the time you're trying to switch addresses). Needless to say I wasn't very excited about the fact that I'd have to trapse back down to the branch office to get more cash for my evening out. But I left anyway and headed down to the office. I stopped at the grocery store on the way down and bought a maple old-fashion doughnut. For some reason I have recently developed a small fetish with maple old-fashion doughnuts. I then headed for the bank where I proceeded to arrive at 1:18pm only to find that the bank had closed its doors at 1:00pm. Annoyed, I cursed my existence and the banks for my entire walk home.

Reaching home I reassesed my situation. I needed to get cash and quick. I finally decided to try the old school method and write my self a check at a grocery store. So I headed out the door in the opposite direction of the bank and walked down toward the store. When I got to the store, I did some light shopping and then went to the checkout line. Once at the register I proceed to ask if I could write myself a check, to which I recieved a somewhat terse, yes. I haven't written myself a check in years. Probably before my undergrad days.

I wrote the check, gave her the required ten forms of ID, collected my things and made my way out the door. I was unfortunately much more focused on shoveling the bag of patato wedges into my mouth because it wasn't until I was halfway home that I realized I had completely forgotten to get the $40 cash from the cashier. So, I headed back to the store. Once there I went and waited patiently by the cashier while she helped customers. When she finally turned to me and I explained the situation, she exclaimed that she had already given me the $40. We had to call a manager over to resolve the situation. I'm glad we have ATM's.