As you might remember, there was some trouble with my first paycheck. It was in fact mailed to my permanent address in Austin. After talking with my manager, him talking with several different people in payroll, it was decided that the fastest way for me to get the check was for it to be overnighted from Austin. Vince was very helpful with that, and I finally deposited the check over a week after I was supposed to be paid, last Friday. And I thought that problem was solved.
I was wrong. Yesterday I got an email from a lady in Payroll asking if I could please call her as my check was ready. Oh boy. Once I called her my fears were confirmed. The following may be somewhat paraphrased.
“Hi Chris, I’ve got your check here, would you like to come by and pick it up or have me mail it to your mailstop?”
“Um, is this the check for the 11th? The one that was mailed to Austin?”
“Yes, we cancelled that original check.”
“I’ve deposited that check.”
“. . . What?”
“I was told to have it overnighted to me, which I did, and it was deposited last Friday.”
“Oh dear, umm, I’m not sure what to do. Call your bank and tell them the situation, and then call me back once you know what they said to do.”
So I called Wells Fargo, and was told to get the non-cancelled check as quickly as possible and deposit it to avoid overdraft fees. Luckily, I’d felt kind of lazy yesterday morning and didn’t ride my bike to work, so I was able to drive to the IPOC building, get the check, and then drive to Wells Fargo and deposit it. The teller kind of laughed when I told her the whole sad saga of that check.
Oh well, I get paid again tomorrow, and *fingerscrossed* it will be deposited directly.
Here’s a great way to feel like a complete asshole:
It’s time to ride back from work so you head to the bathroom to change into riding clothes. You’re in the only stall, getting undressed, when you hear somebody open the bathroom door. You keep getting dressed, but realize the person is just waiting in the open part of the bathroom, not using the sink, or the urinals or anything. “Okay, okay,” you think, “I’ll hurry up!”
You get the last of your gear on, pack up the rest in your backpack, grab your helmet and head out of the stall.
And there’s a guy in a wheelchair waiting.
“Oh my bad. Sorry for taking the handicapped accessible/only stall in order to change clothes . . . well, I’m off to ride my bike now. With my legs.”
Note: the above was definitely not actually said, it’s just what I imagined the scene must have looked like.