cashier

useless worrying

I spent all of last night worrying in my sleep about the 500$ that I had deposited into the bank, but was not showing up in my online account summary. “What could go wrong?”, I thought.

I go to bed, with this idea that “Oh well, it must take some time for the account to get the data, so when I check my account tomorrow morning, the money will be there.”

It’s 1 am now, and I’m now thinking in my sleep, “No you idiot, I gave them cash, not a check. Even checks are instant transfer these days. Cash should show up immediately!”

A while later, I decide that I can just go to the bank tomorrow morning, and sort this out in person. But wait, what do I tell them? My memory now rewinds and plays the moment when the cashier asked me if I wanted a receipt for the transaction, and I coolly say “No thanks”.

No receipt, no proof, no cash.

From there on till around 5am, I’m mostly trying to replay the sequence in my head, how I went there and gave them the money, and they put it in my account. Hmm. What if they put it in the wrong account? I often tend to mumble, and maybe in my mumbling Indian accent, I sounded like I was giving them some other account number?

Or maybe it was the feds… did my cash get “seized for review” or something — I cashed those dollars at a New York bank — you should never trust these New York banks!

Grr, it’s six o clock. Might as well wake up and get some work done. Check account — nope, no money still.

Hmm. Maybe…

I pick up my wallet and look though it. Right there, in one corner, is a folded bunch of 5 benjamins. I guess I never deposited the money after all.

Damn you fake memories.

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corrupted indices

Today is an amazing day for my fingers. First, I decided to bike down to school, instead of the planned bike-and-then-bus schedule, which left my fingers fairly numb due to the cold wind. On my way into the Art, Architecture & Design building, I decided that it would be a good idea to keep the locked door ajar, so that others after me could get in. Of course, my left index finger decided to help out by placing itself conveniently between the concrete block stopper and the door; resulting in a cut fingertip and a nice bloodclot under the nail.

The right index finger was getting jealous, and decided to make its move at lunch. This is when I give my dear readers a fascinating piece of advice: When you are working with Swiss knives, it is not a good idea to put them in the back pocket alongside your wallet. Atleast not with the corkscrew side sticking out. Because if you do that, your right index finger will decide to make sweet love with your corkscrew instead of your credit-card carrying wallet, yeilding cute little droplets of blood in front of the cashier, who is wondering why you are jumping up and down, all you bought was a stupid pizza and coke.

I guess this is a good time to unlearn my two-finger typing and actually learn how to use all my fingers on the keyboard.

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