Last week, we were waiting for a check from B's (former) employer, and I happened to check our bank account online for the SHOCK OF MY SHORT SWEET LIFE. Here we'd overdrawn, and our sweet sweet bank was charging us overdraft fees every 30 minutes since we'd overdrawn. Ok, so that wasn't it exactly, but it sure fucking felt like it. We ended up with over $480 dollars in fines in three days. Unacceptable, bank. Unacceptable.
Bruce, being the more emotionally stable one in this relationship, went to have a chit-chat with the banky. They agreed that the most reasonable thing to do was to take off half of our charges, and re-put-them-into our account. (can't think of the word, sorry, too early). Within the margins of acceptability, I thought. Plus, they gave us five sweet dollars for our troubles. Sweet is the word of the day. Use it in a sentance!
So poor poor me, when I checked the bank account on Tuesday, little did I know I was to face a balance of three measley dollars. Sure, we'd paid the rent and the car payment and (way more than we usually pay of the) utility bill, but we should have had three, maybe four hundred dollars left over. Of course, I shot onto autopilot, assuming it was all my fault and waiting for the D-word from Bruce. I'm so paranoid.
Because after I looked at the statement, I noticed that when B went in there last week, they only deposited the five dollars. Not the two hundred and thirty they said they were going to. Bruce went in yesterday and explained it to them, and not only is the money in the account today, but guess what?
You guessed it. We got another sweet five dollars out of the deal.
And I only had two heart attacks and a stroke in the process. Yay!