chaotic mortal

Mixed Money

April 27th, 2008. Published under Home, True Life. No Comments.

I had one hundred and fifty dollars stored in a bank about a year ago. Within a month, I had probably forgotten about it. The statements that came never mentioned anything about my one hundred and fifty dollars, but my parents kept on insisting they were of separate statements, probably.

I thought that was queer, since the statement for the 150 dollars (if it was separate) never came. One day,  I was matching up the account numbers.

My parents had created a CD account for me, because the bank’s interest was probably at an all-time high or something, because they seemed to create an account for everybody.

I had asked them if I could use the savings account they established at the bank. They told me I could, and that was perhaps the end of it.

At least, that was what I thought.

I had looked all over the statement. The account numbers matched up. But there was only the minimum five dollars in my savings account.

Confused, I told my mother we would be going to the bank the next day.

And so we did. When we arrived, a stammering “IN TRAINING” employee greeted us.

“Hi, welcome to the bank. How may I help you?”

“Yes,” I said, and explained the situation.

“Somebody came and took all of the money in February.”

“What?”

“Somebody has come and taken all of the money in February,” the lady repeated.

“We didn’t come here in February!” It was April.

“Somebody did. Here’s a printout,” she said, handing me a sheet.

11/26/2006 ACCOUNT OPENED

11/28/2006 $150 DEPOSITED

02/14/2008 $150 REMOVED

“Queer,” I said to my mother. Then I noticed something.

The address in the corner was my aunt’s address.

In maybe an instant, I understood.

My aunt, or my mom’s sister were Chinese, obviously. Chinese people frequently have three-part-names, or three symbols. When they come to America, they change it usually to the first word being the last name, and the second and third to first.

In my mom and aunt’s case, however, they had the same last name, and first part of the first name. The bank had gotten confused and thought the last word was the middle name.

Therefore, my sub-account (I’m a minor, so of course) was under my aunt. When my aunt had arrived in February, she had taken that money.

I explained to the clerk in case she was worried, and left.

About a day later, my mom talked to my aunt.

“Y-you mean, the money’s not mine?” She asked unbelievingly.

“No, it’s his,” my mom said, indicating me.

“Oh,” she said. I smirked as she gave it to me. “And I thought the money came out of nowhere.

“Now, really,” my mother said as I burst into a fit of laughter.