by Dave Jackson
“Me!” Nate yelled, his mouth still full of his first one.
But Greg pushed his plate away. He suddenly didn’t feel very hungry.
* * * *
Greg ignored the ringing of his phone the next day when he didn’t recognize the number. He needed to focus on his next bid. Things were still up and down in terms of his profits, and at the moment he was down again. Just as he won the next bid, the phone rang again—same number. He answered.
“Greg, what’s going on?” Nicole’s angry voice yelled through the phone. “Our card’s been denied! What’s happening? Why won’t it go through?”
“What do you mean? Where are you?”
“I’m at the grocery store, calling on the pay phone. And it’s really embarrassing. When I tried to pay, it comes back, ‘Card not acknowledged.’ The clerk said that probably means it’s maxed out. Do you know anything about this?”
Instantly, Greg realized exactly what was going on. He hadn’t put money back on the card since last night. And there’d only been thirty-eight bucks left before they hit their limit.
“Uh, don’t worry about it, honey. It’s just a mistake. I’ll get it cleared up right away. You still at the store?”
“Of course. I had to put all my groceries back in the cart and find a phone. This is so embarrassing, Greg. What’s wrong, and how are you going to fix it?”
“Like I said, it’s just a mistake. How much do you need?”
There was a big sigh on the other end. “I owe $93.76.”
Greg knew he had thirty dollars in his wallet. That plus the thirty-eight still available on the card came to $68. “You got any cash on you?”
“Not that much.”
“I know, but I’ve got some in my pocket. If you’d come get it—”
“Come home? What am I supposed to do with my cart?”
“I’m sure they wouldn’t mind you leaving it there for a while, but you . . .” He paused, knowing this would upset her even more. “Um, you might have to put some of it back.”
“What are you talking about?” Her voice was getting louder. “I’m not putting anything back. I only bought what we need, and we need it all. Besides, that’s not fixing it. You said you’d fix it. What’s wrong with our card, anyway?”
“Just calm down and give me a second, would you?” An alternative was coming to him. He checked his balance on TopOps. His rough morning left him with only $180 in his account. If he transferred a hundred back into the credit account, the card should work. But how long would it take to go through—a minute? an hour? He didn’t know, but it seemed like the only option. “Look, Nikki, give me a few minutes to work out something with the bank. Then you should be able to pay for the whole cartload. Okay?”
“And what am I supposed to do in the meantime? I’ve got two hungry kids with me.”
“Can’t you give them an energy bar or an apple or something?”
“Greg, what’s happening? I don’t know if I’m coming or going. People are getting mad, telling me to get out of the way.” Amid background noise, her yelling was turning into hysterical crying. “I don’t know if I’m actually going to be able to pay for these groceries, and I don’t even know if there’s enough gas to get home on, and you want me to just wait here by the phone.”
“What’s this about gas? You didn’t mention gas before.”
“The empty light’s on, and I was going to fill up on the way home.”
“Then just . . . just use whatever cash you’ve got on you.”
“All right.” Her crying changed to gasping sobs. “But you still haven’t told me what the problem is. I want to know the whole story, Greg.”
“Sure, sure. When you get home.” Greg got up and paced around the living room, still holding the phone to his ear. “Look, for now just wait there, and I’ll call you back as soon as I know the funds are in the account so you can use the card. Okay?”
As soon as the phone connection ended, he realized he hadn’t asked her for the number of the pay phone.
Chapter 37
Greg had a moment of panic. How was he supposed to call Nicole back without the number to the pay phone? Wait . . . it had to be in his caller ID. He checked, just to be sure, then took a deep breath. Okay. His first priority was to transfer money from his TopOps account to his credit card so Nicole could pay for her groceries.
He sent one hundred dollars over.
Now what? Greg knew it wasn’t like waiting for a paper check to clear, but just how long would the bank’s computers take to register the transfer? He logged on to his credit card account. It still showed only $38.20. He got up and paced around the room, imagining Nicole and the kids waiting at the Jewel. This really was a mess, but all he could do was wait.
Heading for the kitchen, he opened the refrigerator and pulled out a baggie with half of a personal pizza from the night before. Cold pizza for lunch, ugh. But with his first bite he felt guilty. His kids were stuck at the Jewel, hungry and wanting lunch.
When he returned to the living room, he refreshed his computer screen.
“Finally!” He pumped his fist.
Grabbing the phone, he hit Redial. Nicole answered on the first ring.
“Nicole, the money’s there. Card should work now.”
“You’re sure? I’m not going through that humiliation again.”
“Yes, it’s there. Just checked. But when you stop for gas on the way home, don’t use the card. Just put in however much cash you have.”
“But why can’t I fill it?”
“Just do what I said.” He didn’t want to explain that the cost of a full tank might max out the card again.
“I don’t understand. I thought you said you got the card fixed! Greg, what’s going on here? Something’s not right. I . . . I can’t take this anymore.”
“I know, I know, honey. Just get the groceries. We can talk about it when you get home.”
A half hour later he heard the back door slam as the kids came in. Greg got up from his computer and went out to help Nicole bring in the groceries. No small talk. Just looks as they passed each other on the walk bringing in the shopping bags.
He set the last bag on the counter. “Uh, I already ate. Had the leftover pizza. You guys go ahead with lunch.” He headed back into the living room. Before she’d arrived home, he’d won one bid that increased his remaining $80 to $136. But then he’d lost $85. Should he try again? Greg sat there staring at the screen, confidence drained and unable to make his move.
From the direction of the kitchen he heard Nicole hurrying the kids to finish their lunch, then she was on the phone making arrangements to send Nate and Becky across the street to play with the Horowitz children. He looked up as she came in and stood in the archway into the living room. Her eyes were still red from the morning’s ordeal.
Minimizing the TopOps screen, he got up and gestured toward the couch. “You wanted to talk.” He sat on the edge of the recliner as she sat down, dreading trying to explain their situation to Nicole. Finally, he took a deep breath. “I’m really sorry about that money screwup. Won’t happen again.”
“It already did.” Her voice was tight.
“What do you mean?”
She rolled her eyes. “Well, the card worked at the Jewel, so I tried to use it for gas. But I got another ‘Card not acknowledged’ notice.”
Greg gritted his teeth. “But I told you—”
“Don’t put this back on me, Greg Singer!” She spat the words out. “I only had eight dollars and some change with me. I’d end up having to go back for more gas within a couple of days. I shouldn’t have to put up with any of this garbage!” She glared at him. “I want you to tell me what’s going on!”
“All right, all right.” He raised both hands in surrender. “Look, the card was maxed out. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”
“Maxed out? How can that be? We have a $5,000 limit. Haven’t you been paying our bill?”
“Of course I have. We haven’t miss
ed any payments. But it’s been a little tight since . . . since I lost my job. So I’ve only paid the minimum. And we were already carrying a pretty heavy balance, you know, for a lot of stuff you bought over the last few months. It’s not just me. Anyway, we just hit the ceiling. But like I said, I’m gonna get it fixed.”
Nicole eyed him suspiciously. “You said that on the phone. But it was barely enough to get the groceries. I didn’t think we were that close to our maximum. And if we are, how were you able to activate it again so quickly?”
“Well . . .” Greg took a deep breath, not knowing how she would respond. “My TopOps account is tied to the credit card, so I just transferred over a hundred.”
She gaped at him. “It’s connected electronically? You mean, you’re using our credit card to finance this trading you’ve been doing?”
“No . . . well, I guess, yes. But it’s not the way you make it sound. It’s just a convenience. Like today, I was able to quickly transfer that money. That was good, right?” He was an experienced salesman, so why was he having so much trouble selling his wife on this?
“But you’re saying”—she narrowed her eyes again—“our credit card is where you got the money to invest in the first place. Right? How much?”
He felt like she was busting him. “Hey, it’s not just what I invested. I’ve earned quite a bit too. Look, in business, you can’t make money without spending money. I told you the other day that I put five hundred bucks back into our credit card account to bring down the balance. Remember?”
“Yeah, but now we’re maxed out, so what happened? Did you withdraw it all again, plus . . . plus more?”
Greg felt as he was being backed into a corner. “Well, I had to . . . but it’s just temporary.” He leaned forward, trying to regain control of the conversation. “The thing is, Nicole, you need to understand business. Any business requires startup capital. I mean, a half million wouldn’t be unusual to launch a small business. But I’m trying to get up and running with our own money rather than take out some big business loan. You don’t seem to appreciate that.”
Nicole folded her hands in her lap and looked down at them for several moments as though she’d been duly chastised. Maybe he was making some headway after all . . . but then he saw her head begin to slowly turn from side to side. “Greg, I don’t know what’s going on, but . . . I can’t live like this. I’ve tried to support you, and I’ve even tried to do part-time work at home like you asked. But I can’t take the tension. I need a break.” She stood up. “I’m going to take the kids and go over to Mom’s for a while . . . until you get this thing fully straightened out.”
“What? But I did straighten it out. It was just a glitch, my mistake. Won’t happen again, I promise.”
“It’s not straightened out. There wasn’t even enough money for gas. Do what you need to do, but I still need a break.”
Greg followed her out of the living room and down the hall. “Nicole, you can’t leave. We’re married—for better or worse, remember? It’s not Christian.”
She turned and glared at him, hand on hip. “It’s not like I’m not divorcing you, Greg.” Though the way she said it, it hit him as if it might actually come to that. “I just need some space. Look, you want to do the macho thing and run the whole show? Okay, do it. Maybe you’ve got a great plan that’s going to make you rich like you want, but maybe you don’t. All I’m saying is I can’t stay in the middle of this chaos. When it’s over, let me know.”
Turning on her heel, she left him standing alone in the hallway.
* * * *
Greg didn’t really believe she’d leave, but for the next hour he heard Nicole rustling around in their bedroom and then going upstairs, packing bags for herself and the kids. When Nate and Becky came home just before 4 p.m.—just as the trading on TopOps closed—he heard her tell them they were going over to Grandma’s for a sleepover.
A short while later Nicole stood once more in the archway into the living room. Her face was puffy and blotchy, mascara smeared a little under one eye. “There’s some lasagna from last week in the freezer and leftover chicken soup in the fridge. Since I shopped this morning, most things are stocked up.” She stopped, and then in a husky voice added, “I’ll call.”
“Nicole!” he said as she headed for the back door. “Wait!”
She came back around the corner, but the look on her face told him she wasn’t going to change her mind. Still, he had to try. “You don’t need to do this, you know. We can work it out.”
“Yeah, maybe, but not right now. I’m taking the car.” And then she was gone.
He wanted to run after her. Instead, he paced around the living room trying to resist the anger that surged within him. The old Kenny Rogers song started playing in his mind: “You picked a fine time to leave me, Lucille . . .” He rewound the refrain a couple of times, inserting Nicole’s name. It fit. Was that what was really happening? Was his wife making her move for that playboy, that Lincoln Paddock, just setting it up so it seemed like his fault?
Greg wasn’t much of a country-music fan, but that song said it all and left him thoroughly intoxicated with self-pity. Refreshing his computer screen, he searched the Web until he found the lyrics so he could sing all the words. But the end of the third verse stopped him. The man “Lucille” was trying to pick up in the bar walked away from the affair rather than break up a family.
Were there men with a conscience? Did Lincoln Paddock have one?
Greg wasn’t about to beg, but he wasn’t going to let Paddock have his wife without a fight. Maybe he should go down to that McMansion right now and say . . . something! Going out onto the front porch, he looked down the block to the dead-end where Paddock’s big house sat. No cars out front. Probably not home.
But for the next hour, he cast around in his mind for what he might say that could make a difference. No . . . what he really needed to do was win his wife back. He had to make himself more attractive than Paddock. And given how upset Nicole had gotten about the maxed-out credit card and the financial stress, he figured the first thing he needed to do was make her feel more secure.
And to Greg’s way of thinking, that meant success . . . money!
Settling down at the computer once more, he called up his credit card account on the Web, but was shocked to see the notice: “Overdrawn, insufficient funds. Call your bank immediately.” What? His balance showed that he owed $5,046.96. How could that be? After adding a hundred, there should have been about $138 available, and Nicole said her groceries were $93 something.
He quickly calculated the numbers in his head. There should still be about $40 left. So why was he overdrawn? He could understand why Nicole wasn’t approved at the gas pump. They probably anticipated a full tank costing fifty or sixty bucks. But where did these extra charges come from that put them past their limit?
Greg looked more closely at the activity on his card. Today was the billing cycle, which meant the bank had added $56.20 of interest to the total he owed. That put him over the $5,000 limit—and for that infraction, they’d also charged an additional fee of $35, a penalty that would be added again and again, a notice said, for every day he remained over his limit.
“Argh!” he screamed and grabbed his head.
Okay, okay, he needed to think. Fast. He checked the time. Five-thirty. Was the bank still open? He called the number on the screen. It rang and rang until finally someone answered, “One moment please. Can I put you on hold?” which she did before Greg had a chance to protest.
Finally, after ten minutes of scratchy elevator music, the woman came on the line asking him how she could help. He had to go through a whole process of confirming his identity—password, mother’s maiden name, etc.—before he could explain the situation and ask his question. “What can I do?”
“Mr. Singer, you’re going to have to pay off your credit card before we can release it for use again.”
“I understand. But we’ve got some money in our checking account. Can
you transfer that over by phone to free this up?”
“We’ll need a check for that, and I’d suggest you come in tomorrow morning rather than mail it so you don’t continue to incur those daily fees until it arrives.”
“Okay, I can do that.” Except it suddenly hit Greg that Nicole had the car. “But just to be sure, if I get there before ten, how much would I need? I mean, by what time tomorrow would another fee kick in?” Greg knew the checking account was low, but he thought there’d be enough to bring the balance down and give him a little margin with which to work TopOps.
“Well, if you got here right away, I think I could get special approval to wave tomorrow’s fee. So, let me check . . .” She was quiet for a moment. “That would be $5,046.96.”
“What? No, no, that’s the whole amount I owe. I understand, but I’m just asking how much I need to release the card.”
“That is the amount. You see, Mr. Singer, once you’ve gone over your limit, the bank doesn’t want to risk that continuing to happen. So the policy is, you need to clear the entire balance on the card. It was all there in your credit card agreement when you signed up.”
Greg was choking on air. He’d never read the fine print, and every few months they changed it anyway, sending out some amendment. But she couldn’t be right. It didn’t make any sense. “I’ve never heard of a policy like that! What’s the point of it?”
“I admit it catches some people by surprise, but ever since the recession, banks have instituted a number of new policies designed to help people avoid getting overwhelmed by debt. It’s for the good of the customers. This is just one of those changes that’s really in your own best interest, Mr. Singer.”
“But I . . . I can’t pay the whole thing off just like that. And until I do, you’re going to keep hitting me with these daily penalties. That’s not fair!”
“Oh, you misunderstood. As soon as you bring it down below your $5,000 limit, the daily fees stop. But the card can’t be activated for new charges until it’s fully paid off.”