When Eldest was a young lad, not yet two years old and already a big brother to Daughter, he enjoyed talking on the phone. There is one conversation he had with my mother that we have recalled fondly on numerous occasions. He was describing to my mom all of his adventures earlier in the day, a Saturday.
"Bank of Money, McDonald's, Home Depot, Chili's." I see him talking on the phone. I hear him saying those words. I can conjure up the whole damn thing in my head. I don't know why that has stuck with us all these years. It has, though.
"Bank of Money" was Bank of America, our bank of choice two or three banks ago. We are the type of people who get burned by a bank and then take our vengeance by withdrawing all of our funds and opening checking and savings accounts elsewhere. Ha! So there! And then the new bank ticks us off or makes too many bad loans and gets bought out or merges with an evil-doer and then we're looking for a new bank again. Ha! So there!
What brings "Bank of Money" to mind today is my collection for a gift for Youngest's first grade teacher. Tuesday was her last day before beginning maternity leave. She was supposed to stay through mid-May, but her doctor expressed enough concern about her blood pressure last week that she is hightailing it home to take it easy. [Couple the doctor's concern with her receipt of a lay-off notice for next year 'cause she doesn't have enough seniority to weather the economic storm blowing up a gale around these here parts and you can see why she'd take it easy sooner rather than later.]
I sent out a note to the other 19 parents, telling them to let me know if they wanted to contribute to a gift and letting them know I was more concerned with knowing the amount than I was in having the cash in hand by Tuesday morning.
Four never responded. Fifteen said they'd kick in. Of the 15, one was a very defensive room mom taking offense at my collecting, noting that she or her co-room mom would have gotten around to it but they are so busy, busy, busy.
Of the 15, eight have sent me cash or a check. They could have provided me the money Friday at pick-up or Monday at drop-off or Monday at pick-up or Tuesday at drop-off or Tuesday at pick-up or...you get the picture. I didn't really care that I got it right away, but I do care that I get it reasonably quickly.
One woman sent me a second email after the initial one saying she'd chip in. The second email said she'd try to send the money with her son "this week."
I think I've mentioned before how I just love to find reasons to hate people. Obviously, I've found another way via the Bank of Money.