Adventures in banking
My husband loved to play bank. His favorite game was getting services and not paying any fees. Consequently this involved moving our money frequently, sometimes as often as several times in one year. When I questioned the wisdom of doing this I was told “it’s all here in the notebook”. This was a battle I wasn’t going to win and he was extremely careful with money, so I let him have his fun. Mistake number one. After 30 years together no one should be having fun. Especially when it involves computers, cash and
secret extremely creative passwords.
I have been spending my time
cheerfully contacting banks, both local and afar, armed with account numbers, user names and passwords, his social, my social, my blood type and the secret family recipe for tourtiere pie. My list of where we don’t have money has far exceeded my list of where we do and I am painstakingly crossing off each institution. Having narrowed it down I have either sent a copy of the death certificate with my written instructions on what I want done with the account or, in the case of local banks, taken care of it in person. Each time the account was closed, within a week there has been a letter addressed to him informing him that someone (I would assume they mean me.. the co-owner of the accounts, wife, widow, holder of the paperwork confirming he is no longer making banking decisions) has closed his account. He is to contact them immediately if those were not his wishes. Can I get a big round of what the fuck? Seriously.