Just to let you know how this rule came about…
When my college boyfriend and I broke up on Christmas Eve in 2010 my mom said, “He gets 24 hours, and then you are over it.” No boy is worth mourning over. As much as I thought I would spend the next week sobbing into box after box of tissues, she was right about the whole 24 hours thing. I got in the shower, cried it out, and since I have stepped out of the shower I haven’t shed another tear for him or that entire disaster of a situation.
That “rule” my mom has given me has become more of a motto. If I get upset over something, if I am starting to plan some one’s personal demise or just want to punch somebody in the freaking face, I give it 24 hours. I am pissed for 24 hours. I scheme for 24 hours. I talk about how completely unfair it is for 24 hours. And then, it is over. I wake up the next morning and everything is not necessarily okay, but I will get over it; almost instant emotional detachment at its best.
This brings takes us to yesterday which was just a rough day. It was one of those days that you know everybody has once in a while. I had a little hiccup in the morning, that I am not going to go into detail about, but I was just really confused on to why this situation happened. I wasn’t necessarily upset about it, I was just confused.
Then, I decided to check my bank account online to see if my student loans were going through, and to see if I was going to be able to go to the goodbye happy hour that was planned for a team member that is leaving on Friday. I stumble onto Wells Fargo Online and realize that there is a pretty hefty cab charge on my account… that I didn’t authorize. Welp, I don’t take cabs, and I surely didn’t ride 30+ miles in a cab… um, dad?
His wise words were, “Sweetie, you have had your identity stolen, you should probably go to the bank on your lunch break, which needs to be now.”
This leads me to the bank where I have to rush a fraud charge, because my student loans are about to go through and my bank account is about to bounce, and cancelling my account would mean my student loans would not run, meaning they wouldn’t be on time… a big heap of BS is what it was. Who do you think you are to steal somebody else’s credit card number? Really? And then as I am sitting at Wells Fargo I get a text from a friend who says that she has a lot of money charged on her account, causing her account to bounce several times. Well, the last place we were together was this place called H Street Country Club. Ding, ding, ding. In addition to being a horrible human being, how freaking stupid are you to steal two friends, who were there together, credit card numbers and then use them on the exact same day for the exact same things? Um, you’re an idiot.
Once I get back to work my mind just isn’t there, it is in 400 different places, scheming the demise of the waitress from H Street Country Club (which is a Mexican restaurant), and I decide that if I was the manager of that establishment I would want to know that my employees are committing fraud.
So… I call this man. He become very hostile towards me, using a harsh tone, telling me his bank will look into it… (Why would your bank look into your employees stealing people’s money?) So I informed him that my bank is also looking into the matter and I thought, out of the kindness of my recently stolen from heart, that he would want to know what is 99.9% happening out of his restaurant. My kindness was obviously not well received. Unluckily for him, my friend banks with the federal government… have a good time with that ass hole.
Work wasn’t that super productive after my dealings with the bank, the federal loan whatever they are called, jerk face manager and singing boy that sits beside me… so I skipped happy hour, not only because my bank account is under lock down, but because if I had to act cordial in a social setting it just was not going to end well. Thus, I went home, made perogies while watching endless episodes of Mad Men, drinking grape juice because I didn’t have any wine, all the while reading The Girl Who Kicked the Hornets’ Nest. You can successfully label me as a train wreck.
Then after a super depressing episode of Mad Men where Don Draper slept with his secretary because he was alone at Christmas, and then pretended like nothing even happened, I leashed up Sadie and went on a good long walk.
So, in reality it only took about 12 hours… but we can include the good night sleep I had as the other 12 to complete the get the *#$@ OVER it cycle. I realized that I have had great opportunities here, so why shouldn’t other people? My student loans worked out, my bank account is fixing everything, I caught the charge almost instantly so they didn’t have the chance to run up my chargers, and that poor establishment just will hopefully get what’s coming to them.
Today is a new day. A day where I even brushed my hair.
And just in case you need some happy, wet dog in your life… see above.