Nigerian Scams and Rabid Shower Doors
Or, why they don't let me out by myself.
Thursday Night, I go to pick up my paycheck. I grab my brother, hop in the car, drive to the office, grab my check, and drive over to the bank. I park the car, go into the bank foyer, put my check in a deposit envelope, pop my card in the atm, press the appropriate buttons, feed it my check, and withdraw a jackson for my brother. I then become distracted by a copy of 'African Business News'. "Hmm.", I think to myself. "That's interesting. I should grab a copy of that." So, I do. I then head out to the car, and drive down the street to get gas. I pull into the gas bay, hop out of the car, pop open the gas cap, and take out my wallet. I reach in for my bank card. Suddenly, I am overcome with a complete and utter feeling of 'DOH!'. My card is still in the ATM. I close the gas cap, hop back in the car, and hurtle back to the bank. Alas, too late. The ATM has digested my card. Defeated, I get back in the car and point us toward home. I make a layover at the local greasy spoon so I can drown my woes in maple syrup. Then I go home, call the bank, and sheepishly explain to the very nice customer service rep that I'm an idiot. My new bank card will be here in a few days. Damn Nigerians.
Saturday night, I'm getting ready for work. I go to hop in the shower. I apparently hop all wrong, as I wedge/ram one of my toes into the track for the shower door. Several curses of unpronouncable origin escape my lips. My toe has a little cut on it, and it hurts, but I otherwise think nothing of it. I finish my shower, and go to work. I come home sunday morning, and take off my shoe to look at my toe. It is several shades of black and blue, and feels all wrong. Probably broken. Damn inanimate objects.
I'm all for a good joke, but may the end of this week be the end of the universe's practical jokes on me, for at least a brief period, anyway.
- Turq.
Thursday Night, I go to pick up my paycheck. I grab my brother, hop in the car, drive to the office, grab my check, and drive over to the bank. I park the car, go into the bank foyer, put my check in a deposit envelope, pop my card in the atm, press the appropriate buttons, feed it my check, and withdraw a jackson for my brother. I then become distracted by a copy of 'African Business News'. "Hmm.", I think to myself. "That's interesting. I should grab a copy of that." So, I do. I then head out to the car, and drive down the street to get gas. I pull into the gas bay, hop out of the car, pop open the gas cap, and take out my wallet. I reach in for my bank card. Suddenly, I am overcome with a complete and utter feeling of 'DOH!'. My card is still in the ATM. I close the gas cap, hop back in the car, and hurtle back to the bank. Alas, too late. The ATM has digested my card. Defeated, I get back in the car and point us toward home. I make a layover at the local greasy spoon so I can drown my woes in maple syrup. Then I go home, call the bank, and sheepishly explain to the very nice customer service rep that I'm an idiot. My new bank card will be here in a few days. Damn Nigerians.
Saturday night, I'm getting ready for work. I go to hop in the shower. I apparently hop all wrong, as I wedge/ram one of my toes into the track for the shower door. Several curses of unpronouncable origin escape my lips. My toe has a little cut on it, and it hurts, but I otherwise think nothing of it. I finish my shower, and go to work. I come home sunday morning, and take off my shoe to look at my toe. It is several shades of black and blue, and feels all wrong. Probably broken. Damn inanimate objects.
I'm all for a good joke, but may the end of this week be the end of the universe's practical jokes on me, for at least a brief period, anyway.
- Turq.