Mimi’s Corner: Confessions of an Idiot
What pride I once had in my mental abilities has diminished. I feel like an idiot, a fool. For my sins, I shall share the details with the world. Confession is good for the soul, I hear.
While technically I committed a crime, a sympathetic cop, prosecutor, judge or jury would probably consider giving me a break. I have no prior record, outstanding warrants, or speeding tickets, just a warning once from a kindly Tipp City policeman for going 40 something miles per hour in a 30 something zone. No petty thefts, unless you count my picking Mrs. Yendes’ flowers once for a makeshift bouquet for my mom when I was a wee lass. Yes, I’ve been pretty much a goody-two-shoes…until the incident with the bad check.
If Tipp City were a smaller town, word would have spread like wildfire. If I had stopped into a local shop to make a purchase, the cashier would have said, “Cash only, you sneaky finagling thief! We will never accept a check from you! And we’ll be going over your cash with a fine-toothed comb, too, you chiseler!” Yeah, I would have had to move to Mudville, or Cleveland, or even Black Rock.*
Let me explain. Last fall, we contracted to have a house built. We soon sold our old house and deposited the proceeds in an account at Bank #1. Our builder requested the first payment on the new house a few days later. So, I promptly delivered a check in person to cover that request. There was one little teeny, tiny problem, however. I wrote the check on our own account alright, but it was from Bank #2, instead of Bank #1. Ruh roh! Cue the sirens! “Cuff her, Dano!” (Apologies to those who don’t get the reference from Hawaii Five-0.)
Of course, it didn’t come to that. I realized it within an hour, called the builder, explained and rushed over to deliver him check #2; this time it was from Bank #1 where the $$$ was. I felt really stupid. But… not nearly as stupid as I was going to feel a month or so later. Why, you ask, did I feel even more stupid a month or so later? You guessed it. When dear builder, who is still speaking to us (I think), asked for the next payment on the new house, I did the same *&^%$#@!! darned thing! Yes, wrong check, wrong bank.
I realized the mistake about 30 minutes after I returned home. I couldn’t find a hole big enough to crawl into, so I had to face the music. I immediately called the builder and confessed to being even more stupid than he and I thought I was.
Sometimes, when you are busy, stressed, hurried, these things happen, and I’ve been busy, stressed and hurried. How do you prevent this from happening again? As for me, I took a big black Sharpie and wrote a Note to Self on the covers of my two checkbooks:
“CUFF HER, DANO!”
* If you haven’t seen the great flick “Bad Day at Black Rock”, check it out. It’s one of my favorite movies.
