An Unfortunate Financial Faux Pas

This summer, Genius has his rent paid by Garmin, his employer. He said he doesn't need his monthly stipend from the Bank of Mom and Pop. Still, it's a routine to give him his allowance, and two extra months of it won't break the bank. So yesterday, I set off to make a deposit.

Genius has two accounts. One is an online entity that Val considers to run on black magic and fairy dust. The other is his first account at Thevictorian family bank. Because this bank likes to place a hold on any deposited check (yes, even a cashier's check from another local financial institution, they're that persnickety), I always deposit cash for Genius. That's because of his first-time-away-from-home habit of going down to the penny in his account. Kids these days. He was always the youngster who was shocked that stores charged him tax when he thought he had enough for his purchases.

What with all his fancy online tinkering, Genius puts no stock in deposit slips. "Mom. I don't see why I should pay for them when you can pick them up free off the counter." For his fancy online bank, all he does is take a picture of a check, and it gets deposited, no slip. Sounds fishy to me. I'll take my money in gold doubloons and fill out a deposit slip in blood on parchment paper. I need something more concrete.

Earlier this year, when I offered to order deposit slips for him, Genius sighed heavily and told me he would bring me a whole stack when he came home. He did. When I picked one up later in the month, I saw that they were all blank counter deposit slips. So I had to find an old one from when I was on his minor account, and copy over the account numbers.

Yesterday I grabbed a deposit slip and copied the numbers. I was also writing out some bills, telling The Pony to get ready so we weren't late meeting my sister the ex-mayor's wife at Mom's house, and watching Buying and Selling with the Property Brothers. Sometimes I feel like one of those circus plate-spinners, trying to keep everything going at once.

Sis gave me Hick's check for mowing Mom's lawn as we were leaving after our clean-out session. I quickly forged his name and put it with Genius's deposit. At the bank, I first went through the ATM to get our weekly cash, and switched some floppy bills from it for the crisp ones I prefer, which I had been hoarding for Genius's allowance. The bank could darn well get their own floppy money back in that deposit.

I put the check and deposit slip and money in the canister at the drive-thru. Normally, the teller greets me and asks what she can do for me. I say, "I'd like to cash this check, and make a deposit."

Yesterday, nobody greeted me. A boy teller just said, "How much cash are you depositing?" Well. One would assumed it was all the cash sent in through the tube, wouldn't one? Because why give those bills a ride if they're not being deposited?

"Thismany dollars. That's how much I sent in."

"You forgot to write the amount of cash on your deposit slip."

"Oh, sorry. I meant to deposit thismany dollars, and I want to cash that check." That's what I usually tell the tellers who greet me, you see. "I want to cash that check, and make a deposit." Of course, I normally have the deposit slip filled out completely. But this time, I only had Genius's name written in, and the account number.

The canister shot back out. I removed my receipt, and we took off. Four miles down the road, I gasped. "PONY! The bank didn't give me the money for cashing Dad's lawnmowing check! I know there was no cash in that tube. Just the receipt!" I reached into my purse and looked at it. It was thismany dollars plus the amount of the lawnmowing check. That teller had deposited Hick's check in Genius's account.

Let the record show that while I had neglected to fill in the cash amount on the deposit slip, I had also not filled in a check amount. Because I did not want to deposit the check. That kid could at least have asked me the amount of check I wanted to deposit also, don't you think? What's the world coming to when a minimum wage bank teller can't read Val's mind and correct her mistakes?

I informed Genius of his windfall this morning. He asked how to fix it and give the money back. I told him to keep it. How can a woman who can't fill out a simple deposit slip explain to a Genius how to give back money to a different account from 313.7 miles away? Maybe I should have sent HIM a deposit slip and told him to mail it.

As if this entire episode wasn't torture enough, Hick came traipsing halfway down the basement stairs in his tighty whities to ask where his lawnmowing money was. I derived a certain satisfaction telling him that Genius got it by mistake.

I made Hick sweat it out until morning, when I dug up my backyard sock and counted out some doubloons for him. I wouldn't have blamed him if he re-counted.