My attorney has advised me to come over this counter and whip your ass

Remember yesterday's run-in with That Woman at the credit union? That Woman assured me that no transactions were pending on the account. However, en route to work this morning, I received a courtesy call from the credit union this morning, informing me that the account was several hundred dollars overdrawn. Imagine my extreme delight. There are ample dollars in the savings account attached to the checking account that they will not give me access to.

I went back today, but I did not go see her. I asked to see a Member Services Representative, who turned out to be a very sweet little guy named Tim. Tim took my paperwork to his supervisor, a.k.a. The Big Gun, who came back in after a few minutes with that damn piece of paper That Woman gave me yesterday, the one that tells you what your Power of Attorney should say, specifically mentioning the credit union fourteen times. I told her not to give me that piece of paper, I already had one.

The Big Gun gave me the same instructions that the woman yesterday did. I pointed out to her that a credit union is defined by law as a financial institution, and therefore my power of attorney did too cover my banking for my husband here. She told me their attorney would look at it but he would probably need it to be redone.

I asked The Big Gun how, exactly, she expected that to occur, since my husband was deployed, currently in Kuwait (it is convenient here for me to lead her to believe that I am in less contact with him than I actually am) with camels and sand. She said they have, in the past, spoken to deployed soldiers concerning their bank accounts. She was certain that my POA would not be approved by the attorney, and they would need to speak to my husband to authorize me on his account, or he would have to sign and notarize a new POA.

I have confirmed statements like that to be my trigger. When I am told that someone needs to speak to my husband, it only reminds me how unaccessible he is, and how unbelievably sad I am, and they leave me with no choice but to commence a complete meltdown where I stand. And so, I first said "I'm going to need your name" and started crying. Under advisement from my attorney, I then told her that three things would soon happen: 

1. I would find a judge to compel them to honor THIS power of attorney.
2. I would remove my family's business from this financial institution.
3. I would sue this insitution, and name her in the suit.

I requested that she make a copy of my power of attorney so that it could be returned to me and I could leave. She left. Poor Tim was left in the room with me as I sat crying. He asked a couple questions about the deployment, very sweet, and told me to thank my husband for him, then told me he was going to check on the The Big Gun. When he came back, he said that The Big Gun was trying to get in touch with the attorney, and would I like to wait. I said I intended to, and thanked him.

Poor Tim was left in that room with me for a good 20 minutes before The Big Gun said that she was not able to get in touch with Credit Union Attorney, and I decided to return to work, but not before I got the attorney's name and phone number. Here's where this story gets very amusing.

Turns out my attorney/father knows this attorney. But he isn't just acquainted with him by virtue of practicing the same profession in the same area of law in the same state. B-E-T-T-E-R! My attorney/father FISHES with the credit union's attorney. So he called, and when he couldn't get him, he called all their friends, and assured me that sooner or later, he would track him down and get this matter cleared up post haste. After a couple hours, my father's friend Five called me at work and gave me the attorney's number, but he had already called him and explained the situation and the attorney was waiting on my call.

When I called him, his secretary put me right through to him. He got on the phone laughing, because only Stick Wilson would have his daughter storming into banks threatening to sue people. (In defense of my dad, he doesn't sue people willy nilly. The only time he's sued anyone for me was when I was in college and Corey and I were moving out of an apartment, which was robbed while the property's cleaning people were there. So we used the property company and got a little money.) Credit Union Attorney was approving my power of attorney and I was free to bank on my husband's behalf in this particular institution.

Poor Tim called me late this afternoon to let me know that my power of attorney had been approved and I could get the deposit issue cleared up at any branch the next morning. I wanted to say "damn right it's been approved" but I sweetly thanked him for being thorough, and hung up the phone.

On a less-triumphant-for-me note, I am really dreading the dismantling of the staff of the Office of the Lt. Governor. Early on, before the election, I got some good advice to think about what I wanted my next job to look like at, or to which type or organization I would like to contribute next. It’s hard to think, when you’ve only ever worked for SOMEONE, shifting your focus and your career to serve SOMETHING. It’s so impersonal. More on this later.

Someone also posted this picture of Corey on their Facebook page today, and while I love looking at him, my eyes burn with tears when I look at him, in full battle rattle and surrounded by sand. I have to look hard, underneath all that shit, to find MY Corey, who only wears sneakers, oversized jeans, band t-shirts and Red Sox baseball caps, and does things like wrestle small children, play video games and hold my hand in public. (By the way, baby, Tim Gunn told Oprah that men over 25 should NEVER be caught in baggy jeans with holes and heavy distressing. By 30, jeans should be a dark wash, with a tailored fit, and sneakers are just for exercising. If you’ll go ahead and come home, though, you can wear what you want and I’ll tell Tim Gunn to get f***ed.)

That's his driver Moore in the middle and his gunner Corey Hatfield on the right.

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