Participating in the Blogging from A to Z in April Challenge

Just when I think I’m on a break concerning finances, on my way to church yesterday, a fraud alert dinged on my watch. The watch face is too small to read, especially when I’m driving, so I planned to check my phone once I got to church.

After parking, I opened my purse to get my phone. Not there. How did I forget it? I didn’t want to ask myself, because that would have threatened my self-confidence all day. I was already feeling incompetent. I told myself, No problem, just wait until you get home from church. Your phone is probably still sitting next to the chair where you had breakfast.

When I got home from church, I looked for my phone. It was not anywhere—not on the charger or an end table or the night table, or by my chair. Oh no! Now I’ve lost my phone. This day is not going well!

 Stop. Breathe. Ask the usual questions: Where else can my phone be? When did I use it last? Is it in my pocket? Did I have it in the bathroom? (All questions my late husband would have asked me.)

I don’t know how to call myself from my watch, or I would have. Then I might have heard the ringtone on my phone, but chances are I’d have had that turned off for church. Unless my phone never made it to church.

I ate my usual exciting lunch. Cantaloupe and cottage cheese. No dessert.

Satiated with those healthy goodies, I decided I must not dawdle and must address the fraud alert. I picked up my purse again. My phone was not in its usual slot. I unzipped the other four slots. Guess what? It was lying there in the biggest slot resting comfortably on a crumpled-up hanky. My pulse rate slowed down.

Now what? I copied the texted fraud alert and sent it to my son-in-law. He responded right away: “Is there a number to call on the back of the card?” Of course, I knew that, but, of course, I didn’t remember.  I then thought to look at my emails. There were several from my credit card company alerting me about the fraud alert.

There must be something to this with all these messages. I opened my computer to check my account, and it looked like a foreign company had done some serious shopping on my card. While I was on my way to church! And during the service.

I called the credit card company. Nammandres? I said, “I don’t understand.” She repeated her one-word phrase, and I tried to slow the rate of the sounds as they flew into my ear. Oh! She wants my name and address! Why doesn’t she just say so?

So now I’m the proud owner of no new credit card until it arrives in 5-7 days. Of course, I’m traveling this week, but I’m sure there’s a back-up card somewhere. Maybe it’s even in my purse!

Title credit: My son-in-law