In my family we like to have more than one bank account. I'm not sure why but I think it started with my Mamaw, who was my father's mother. Her name was Mary Lou Leonard Palmer Pitzer and she had money in every bank within a three county radius.
I never knew this until later, after she had passed away. I may have accompanied her to the bank once or twice when I was little but I can't say for sure. What I can say for sure is that I knew where Mamaw kept her spending money: in her bra. I wonder why she did that? She always carried a large pocketbook, full of all kinds of junk, but she kept her money close to her heart.
I've thought about doing that sometimes too, but I really don't have any extra room in there other than what is supposed to be in there. (If you know what I mean.) Over the last couple of years, more than one bank that I am affiliated with has gone belly up. The next thing you know the old signs have either been removed or covered up by a new bank's banner from somewhere that I've never heard of. Then you get new cards, checks and all sorts of other junk from the new bank and you're supposed to chuck the rest.
Sometimes, I don't do that.
A few days ago, I had to visit different locations to handle several different transactions. Normally, this wouldn't be a problem. But someone forgot to tell me that. As I waited in the drive thru line mentally checking off items on my to do list, I realized that the lady at the bank was trying to get my attention.
"Ma'am? Excuse me?"
"Ma'am? Hello? Earth to lady in the red Mustang..."
"Yes?" I replied.
"What account do you want this to go into? And while I've got your attention, are you sure you're at the right bank?"
"What do you mean? What account? Of course, I'm at the right bank." This lady had my attention now.
"Well, ma'am, you've given me a bank deposit slip from a bank that was shut down five years ago and you didn't write down the account number."
"Oh, goodness! Can't you just look it up by my name?" I asked.
"Sure. I just need some identification."
"Okay." I began looking frantically for my license but it was soon apparent that I had forgotten it somewhere. I must have left it at the previous bank. I told the lady that I would be right back and drove back to the other bank.
The nice lady there saw me approach, waved my license in the air and offered these sage words of advice: "You know, you ought to keep that thing in your bra. My Granny taught me to do that after I left mine once. Yes sir, I keep it tucked right here," she said patting her breast. "Real up close and personal. I always know where it is. You have yourself a good day now!"
"You too," I said as I tucked my wallet inside my bra and pulled away. Hey, it worked for my Mamaw. It should work for me.
Thursday, October 23, 2014
Posted by Gianetta at 10:10 PM