I’m visiting my grandchildren this weekend. Drove up to Peachtree City today under a pale blue sky with clouds resembling smiles, guess Father Sky was sketching the smile on my face. Went to the children’s high school football game tonight, started late after a rain delay. I get excited seeing my oldest grandson in the marching band at half time. He’s as slim as a matchstick in his band uniform. He plays the mellophone in the marching band and the French horn in the symphonic band. Watching the band perform makes me remember my high school band Friday night football games. So many wonderful band memories. I’ve had a wonderful day. I’m happily tired and it’s pushing midnight so I’m posting a blog I wrote several years ago about my debit card debacle. Tomorrow will bring a new blog.

Debit cards are a marvelous thing as long as you remember your security code number and don’t get hacked! I have 2 separate cards and yes I have gotten them and their security codes messed up more than once! Last time I called the bank they told me the card I was asking about was the joint account I had with Chief and it was closed! Yes, that was card three and I cut it up.

A while back somebody in Saskatchewan tried to buy a $700 cell phone with my card. The bank, knowing I was too technology challenged to operate a phone that expensive, flagged that charge as fraudulent. I had to zoom off to Alexander City for a new debit card. I was so excited when I realized I could get a DQ blizzard for the ride home. I was thankful the bank made the new card and I didn’t have to wait for a new card to be mailed. I am definitely addicted to my debit card.

My most interesting debit card experience happened when my card got stuck in a gas pump. Every time I received a pay check I would go to the same gas station, the same pump, and fill up Bertha, my Tahoe. It was a really hot, humid summer day. I went to the gas pump, put the debit card in, reached to pull it out, and it was superglued in the slot. I tried and tried to pull it out and then humiliated and hang-dogged I walk in the store to tell the attendant my card is stuck in the gas pump.

The attendant was very courteous and said he’d come out in a minute and help me. I walk back to sit in the car and I sweat and I wait and I sweat and I wait. He finally comes out and says, “No worry!” He told me this had happened before and he would get it out. He works up a sweat trying to pull the card out of the slot. A customer goes into the store so he has to go back in but tells me in broken English, “Second man come soon! He get card out. Come in store, have drink and wait.” I want to say, “Yeah, I need a drink!” I thanked him and patiently sat in the car and waited for man number two.

Time passes, I sweat more. I see second man coming. I’m so excited. He tries everything. Turns the pump off…card still stuck. I tell him, “Just get some pliers and pull it out!” But I’m a woman and I know he thinks I shouldn’t know how to get it out. Well, he says, “Third man come soon! No worry. Come in store. Have drink. Third man will get it out.” Seriously! And I wonder how many men are available. And don’t they have names?

I’m just about to drive off, without the card, straight to the bank and have the card cancelled, when I see third man coming. He’s the youngest of them. As he approaches the car I tell him he needs to get some pliers to pull the card out. He tries and tries and I’m still suggesting he get some pliers. He finally says, “Pliers. Yes!” He walks down to the tire business next door and borrows some pliers. Of course he pulls the card right out. Now he says he’ll show me the correct way to use the card, he puts the card in the slot and the card is once again stuck in the pump!

Thank God we still have the pliers! Keep some in my glove compartment now. Maybe you should too. I’m banking in Roanoke now and haven’t had any debit card trouble till I typed the wrong security code in the teller machine twice in a row. That’s a story for another day!

“A good laugh overcomes more difficulties and dissipates more dark clouds than any other one thing.” — Laura Ingalls Wilder