It was a beautiful fall day, and my college buddies and I were out enjoying the nice weather by shopping in town. We stopped in the boutiques and head shops that line the streets of New Paltz and finally made our way to the candy store.
A sign on the counter said, “Fresh Fudge: $3.” I was suddenly famished.
The woman packaged the brick of gooey chocolate in a small, fancy bakery box and rang me up. As I went to pay, I realized I had no cash.
“Do you take debit?” I asked hesitantly. Was I really about to debit candy?
“We do,” she chuckled as she swiped my card.
I munched on the fudge all the way to the movies, trying not to eat the entire brick before we arrived. When we got there, it was time once again for my debit card to save the day. My mom had warned it was “for emergency use only,” but I figured a Tarantino flick was emergency enough.
Our recap of the movie was interrupted on the walk home by a call. It was mom; something was up.
“Hello?” I asked.
“Hey, Danny, do you know how much money you have in your checking account?” she asked, accusation in her voice.
“No,” I said, puzzled.
“Well, that’s good, because it’s 0. We just got an e-mail from the bank. Apparently, you overdrew your account twice today, and you now owe them $83.”
“What! They can’t do that!”
“Oh, yes, they can. Every time you spend money you don’t have. They charge you $35 out of your savings account, along with the money you tried to spend,” she lectured. “You should know better than this. Now go transfer some money back over so this doesn’t happen again.”
She hung up. I made my way for the bank, eating the rest of my $35 fudge on the way, wondering if anyone else could be this stupid.
