I couldn't just walk out, and Ron didn't want to count his money in the bank. "We'll come back" he said "If it's over".
First, we got up and got ready. I was pretty tired this morning, and I'll blame poor, innocent Biscuit. He gets in the bed with me and purrs so sweetly, I don't want to get up. I roll up around him and go back to sleep. When I go get up, I give him his "livers" or his seafood. He got his num-num (if I do nothing, I make sure of that). I made sure Baby Girl wasn't being a Bad Girl and stealing the whole thing. She can be a little terrorist.
She's probably the smallest cat in the house, but she's the meanest when it comes to num-nums. She will claw Biscuit and hiss at him to steal the food. If I put down two plates they don't get eaten. So I supervise.
I got my shower. The welts on my leg are still pretty mad so I didn't try to shave. This reminds me, a little, of the antidepressant reaction I had back in 2009. I wonder if one of my medications was cross contaminated with an SSRI antidepressant. Even a little dust could have provoked this reaction. I am pretty nastily allergic to SSRI'S. Ironic, really.
Allergic to an antidepressant? Sounds like a bad joke.
I'm still spotting, no cycle yet. I didn't have a headache this morning, until I took my antidepressant. It is pretty notorious for headaches, and sure enough guess what came to visit? That's right! Not Fun.
Our ride came, a driver we like. We got to work on time. Things had been pretty busy so I was working the whole time.
We went to the bank and exchanged $1 for $20. We got too much, I realized, after I walked away from the counter. I went back to the teller and told her to double check the transaction.
Ron and I had our "discussion" and I realized I couldn't walk out of there with the cashier short, especially that amount of money. She'd lose her job.
Now, from a purely selfish standpoint she is the only one I trust to do our work. She is friendly, sweet, and always kind. That shouldn't have mattered but it did. At some level, I don't want to lose her.
She called me back to her window. I was right. She had given us !! too much money. I looked at Ron, still complaining. I looked at her, she looked as though she'd been slapped. She was very nervous and frantic.
I did the only thing I could do. I reached in my pocket and took out my freshly-gotten pay, gave her back the money. Ron counted the money later and told me he guessed I was right, he had !! too much money. I told him I had given her my money so could I please get it back?
"Why did you do that? We were going back."
"You were going back. I couldn't walk out of there knowing I had her money in my pocket."
Ron made some comments but I'm very pleased with how I handled the situation. The minute I realized "we" had a real problem, I brought it to her attention and we fixed it. She clocked out today with no problems. I have my pay. Ron has his inventory money.
I can't call myself a Christian and steal. Yes, the teller made a mistake, but that doesn't mean I take advantage of that mistake.
Now, I admit, it would have been easier to return if it had been $5. But if, at the end of it, Ron couldn't "find" the extra money I still would have done what I did.
I have to live with myself.
I have to answer to God.
Do I want to run around blabbing how much I gave back and that it happened at a bank? No. I just called her a "cashier" on Facebook. I really "shouldn't" talk about it at all.