It happens every so often. And it happened just last week.
I had logged on to the laptop to do a few things. To check the forecast. To scan the headlines. To eyeball the scores.
To look at the bank balance.
The balance was nowhere to be found. The website, the credit union informed me, was down for maintenance. Check again later, it said.
I never have any idea what the credit union is doing when its website is down for maintenance, but I can only assume there’s a little housekeeping involved. You know. The numbers are being dusted. The older statements are being swept away.
Whatever.
I did as I was told and checked again later.
The website is down for maintenance, I was told. Check again later.
I went about making some tea, wondering whether the latest car payment had been withdrawn and if the cheque to the chimney service had been cashed.
“Man,” I said to the husband, following an unsuccessful third attempt. “I wish I could check the bank balance.”
“Go online,” he suggested, looking up from the football game.
“I tried,” I said. “It’s down for maintenance.”
“What’s that mean?” he asked.
“I have no idea,” I said, “but I’m pretty sure there’s dusting involved.”
In the pre-website dusting days, this wouldn’t have been an issue, primarily because there was no website to be dusted.
If I wanted to check on the balance of the chequing account, I would do something the sons have likely never done. I would drive to the bank, stand in line and ask the teller how much money I had.
In the pre-website days, such questions — and banking in general — could not be dealt with at 8:30 p.m. on a Sunday or before nine on a weekday. One waited until the bank was open.
In the pre-website days, I did not set up the Hydro payments to be automatically withdrawn once a month. I waited until I received an invoice, then wrote a cheque and entered an amount in a ledger book that lived inside my purse. Sometime later, a statement would arrive in the mail and I would reconcile the numbers with those in the ledger to see exactly where I stood.
I know: nutty, huh?
I logged on again. Maintenance, I was told. Try later.
“This is bizarre!” I said to the husband, reaching for my coat.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“The bank,” I said.
I would do this the old-fashioned way and speak directly to a teller. Tellers are better than websites. They seldom go down for maintenance.
