But more to the point, I'm a pretty dumb criminal. I had a few errands to run in town today, one of which was to transfer some funds from the Husband's account with The Annoying Bank and into our joint account with The Pretty Good Bank.
The Annoying Bank wanted to charge me twenty-five smackers for a simple bank transfer for a relatively low sum of money, so instead I just withdrew the cash and toodled back over to The Pretty Good Bank and deposited the money into our account myself.
Sounds simple, you might say. Where did it all go wrong?
Firstly, in my defense, I have to point out that I had forgotten that the Husband's account with The Annoying Bank was only in his name. I have been using that account recently, and since I know the pin number, I was just taking cash out every once in a while for a specific purpose (like buying stuff for meeeeee! ahem. ssshhhh).
When I was halfway through the transaction with the teller, I remembered that the account wasn't in my name. But I really needed to sort out the money today, and couldn't withdraw that much from the cashpoint.
I panicked a bit. I hoped very hard that she wouldn't notice the missing 's' from MR COOKIES plastered across the front of the card. She didn't. She counted out the money, and handed me a little slip of paper to sign.
At this point, I could feel my face going red, my hands starting to shake, and my stomach preparing to flip-flop its way to a gold medal. What should I do? Should I sign it, risking the teller checking the signature on the back of the card against my own signed name? Should I forge my husband's signature, and hope that they matched up well enough?
I didn't know what to do, so I silently freaked out and chose the stupider of the stupid options: I signed Husband's name. This was the especially stupid option because I'm obviously not MR COOKIES and even if my gender appeared ambiguous, my attempt at forging his signature was absolutely dire.
The teller didn't even look. She didn't check my signature, she didn't compare it against the card, nothing. She handed me the cash and I walked out of the bank. I felt like I was going to be pounced by a security guard as I walked away, but I wasn't. I worried that there would be a squad of police cars sitting in front of my house when I got home, but there wasn't.
I called the Husband to admit my crime, and he laughed at me. Of course. We'll see how much laughing he does when I'm locked away in the slammer.