Monday, June 14
Oh, And One Other ThingSomething I completely forgot to mention happened to me on Saturday night, which I think is worth writing about.
I was just about to go to bed when I thought I'd have a look in my wallet on the off-chance that there was some money left over from Friday night in there. There sometimes is, although more often there is merely an empty space.
This time, there was no money to be found, but I had a look at my receipts, because I figured that I must have gone to the cashpoint on my way to McDonald's at the end of the night.
Imagine the sheer blind panic, if you can, of finding a receipt for a £100 withdrawl at 3.47am in the wallet.
Imagine then the panic as you realise that you don't have £100 cash anywhere. I had about £4 of coins on my table and that was it. I rifled through the pockets of my trousers that were still in a pile on my floor, as well as checking my screwed-up shirt and even the inside of my shoes in a vain attempt to find this missing wad.
But no, nothing. Not a penny. I was up shit creek in a big motherfucking way. I couldn't remember going to the cashpoint, so there was a distinct possibility that I may have withdrawn £100 and not remembered it.
I went downstairs to the loo, splashed some water on my face in an effort to calm myself down, and went back to my room with a slightly more rational mindset. I re-examined the receipt, and noticed that the account balance printed there was somewhere up around £1200.
Put a minus sign before that, and you'd be closer to my current bank balance. This was the first clue that the receipt might not have been mine.
The second was the number printed in the top-left corner. Although it didn't specifically state that it was an account number, it looked very much like one, and more specifically not my account number. I have a numbers brain, and I know all 3 of my 8-digit account numbers off the top of my head, along with their 6-digit sort codes and the 4-digit PINs (it's not 'PIN number', because the N means 'number'! Too many people make that kind of mistake, the eejits.).
Relief set in slightly, but I was still worried that it could still be mine. The quick answer would have been to hop online and check my bank statement at the HSBC website, but my computer was turned off and I was very tired. It could wait.
Plus, I was still very hungover...
I got up the next morning, went into the living room and cajoled a housemate into letting me grab the Internet for 2 minutes. What a fucking relief to find that I'd only withdrawn £10 at that time. I don't know what I would have done if I had taken out £100.
I had visions of me in my drunken state throwing the money up into the air, or giving to some random tramp for no apparent reason. Thankfully, I'd only withdrawn a tenner, and spent less than half at McDonald's. Thank fuck for that, except for the McDonald's bit.
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