On Monday, Lara and I went to Beauregard’s for dinner. I paid—I grab the check any chance I can, right Rick? —and when the server came back to our table, she had two RFCU debit cards in her hand. I looked up, smiled, and gave her my last name so that she could not be confused. She handed me the bill, I signed it, and I pocketed the card without looking at it.

This morning, I went to the ATM on my way to work. I put my card in, entered my PIN, and … “Invalid PIN”. The heck? Well, my old PIN was one digit off of one of the street addresses of my old residences [and no, I'm not telling ], and so I thought, “Maybe I did put it in wrong.” I re-entered the correct PIN and, “Invalid PIN”. I retrieved the card, which read … something other than my name.

YIKES! My mind raced back to the last time I’d used the card, and I instantly remembered the card transaction.

After lunch, I went to RFCU to go report the issue, hand over the other lady’s card, and check to make sure that my card hadn’t been used since then. It hadn’t, but then a confused look came over the [exceedingly cute and wedding-band-less] account representative’s face. She called Card Services, and … turns out that my card had been one of the ones possibly compromised a few weeks back in the big scare out in Arizona. I was told to check my mail for my new card, and that my old one would just be closed out immediately. I went through the teller line, got the cash I’d tried to get this morning, and went back to the office.

When I got back to the office, I went through the pile of mail in the seat of my truck that I had only given a once-over previously, and … there sat an envelope from the credit union with my new card.

Once again, I am far luckier than I deserve to be …