To My Bank and My Store...

Can't we all just get along?

I discovered something strange today. I still haven't decided if I'm really the dizziest person on the planet, or if the circumstance is to blame...

Sometime last month, I lost my debit card and it's been difficult to get it replaced. The first one came to me with Husband's name; I was told that I could use it with my p.i.n. # in the meantime. They were wrong -- but I didn't find that out until I reached the check-out lane at Costco...with $84 dollars worth of warehouse grocery items. *whimper* *whine* You know, they only take cash, check or debit-- and I didn't have any of the above.

So, I asked the bank to send me a new card, pronto. "Please express mail it to me!" They make quite a point of making sure I know they are waiving the $5 fee that usually accompanies this privilege. They're extracting a hearty, "thank you" from me I guess. O.k...thank you. Now will you please send me my card? *painted-on smile*

Then the next day, UPS drives up with my new card. Yippee! The only hassle is that I have to take it to the bank and assign the p.i.n. # again. So I do. I type it in twice. I've used the same p.i.n. # for at least a decade; it's one that was assigned randomly by another bank that long ago. I don't really think about it in terms of a number anymore; it's a pattern on the keypad. And herein lies the problem.

My p.i.n. # didn't work on this card either: not at my store, at Costco, or the bank's own ATM drive-through. Grrrrrrr. *sigh* I can't believe that I have to drag these 3 tired children into the bank when it's 175 degrees outside and we've been shopping all day, we're hungry and thirsty and now we have to sit and wait and I wonder when someone is going to barge in at the end of business on a Friday with a gun to rob the bank, and how I'll make my escape with all three of these girls because there is no way I'm going to stick around until some loser gets the bright idea to take one of them hostage.

Eeek! Aren't you glad you live inside your head, and not mine?

I spent my 20 minute wait kinda praying that the Lord would remove all the anger, irritation and distrust from me. I know it will show through, and that's not good for anyone. When it finally was my turn, I ended up with the same teller that I secretly blamed for all my problems because he was the one that took care of my situation both of the other times I was in. But the Lord was faithful and helped me to express my frustration without actually being frustrated.

Then it happened. He asked me to punch in my p.i.n.#. Done. And again. O.k. The second time, I took a look at the keypad and something didn't feel right. I asked, "Is this the same set up as the keypads on the debit machines in the stores?"

"No, it's not."

"It's not?"

"No."

"Oh. Well. There you go. That's why my p.i.n. # isn't working. I'm punching in a pattern and it's not coming up as the same numbers on your pad as it does in the stores." I showed him what I meant. I (for the sake of example) start on the far right middle key and move up one, down one, and down one again. In the stores, this is 6, 3, 6, 9; but in the bank, it's 6, 9, 6, 3! Who knew?!



This number order is like the one used in the stores.







This is like the one used at the bank!

When all is said and done, I say, "Tell me I'm not the first person this has happened to. No...on the other hand, don't tell me that because it will only make me mad at y'all for not warning people."

He glanced at me across the desk with a look of bewilderment. He needed to tell me the truth, but I think he was trying to avoid embarrassing me in front of my girls, "Well, yes. You are the first one." *sly smile* *nervous chuckle*