My bank account got shut down today. Chase caught a fraudulent debit-card transaction -- card swipe for nearly $300 made as a credit transaction with no PIN entered -- and shut my account down. Sigh.
I'll get the money back in a few days, I'm sure, but I am unsettled. Digging through all my other cards and transactions to make sure that this is the only time I've been stung. I manage my money to the penny, so I doubt I'll find more, but the timing couldn't be worse.I found out as my card got declined at the local grocery story. I immediately received a text and a call from the Chase Fraud folks. Good on 'em.
So...I'll wait a few days to stock up on groceries. Continue to figure and refigure in my head schemes for replacing my unworkable, broken-down mobility equipment in the wake of my insurance-company denial. And be grateful, despite it all, that I can still afford basic groceries (most days).
More below...
As I sat on a bench in Tom Thumb, talking to Chase and watching the store clerk haul away my cart to begin reshelving the items I'd selected, I couldn't help feeling embarrassed. Yes, I know it wasn't my fault -- I was able to flash the text from Chase at the clerk to mitigate her irritation that my basket had to be restocked. Still, it's humiliating to be unable to finish paying for what you need.
I waited on hold, trying to look unphased and in control and in charge. And, from my vantage point at the front of the store, I watched as other people checked out. People juggling a combination of government checks and Lone Star cards and change and plastic carefully tended over their transactions as if their lives depended on it. Not all, of course, but many. Shaking their heads as the prices for soup and mixed vegetables and frozen carrots and pork popped up on the register, anxiously handing over whatever they were offering as payment.
I coupon. I delay purchases. I buy day-old and priced-for-quick-sale and freeze-dried and frozen. I read the circulars and strategically plan my shopping day and bulk buy and freeze. I make lists and I try not to waste and I worry. It's work, but we eat. Well, by all global standards. Maybe not high on the hog, but we make it work.
I watched people even more careful and studied and strategic and, often, desperate strung together their transactions.
Given the shutdown of my bank account, I have exactly $12.86 in cash on hand to get through the next few days.
Am I worried? Yes. Am I lucky, even on a day like today? Without question.