Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: SATURDAY, March 21, 1992 TAG: 9203200340
SECTION: EXTRA PAGE: E-1 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: BEN BEAGLE
DATELINE: LENGTH: Medium
We have enough trouble, without being reminded of what malletheads we are.
You go ahead and laugh, but you don't know what we go through. People have looked down on us for a long time.
When I used to go to cocktail parties - that was back when I could stay awake past 7:30 p.m. - I often tried to use my checkbook balance as a conversation starter.
There was a time when anybody who admitted he or she couldn't balance a checkbook was thought of as a brilliant eccentric who couldn't be bothered with everyday things.
I don't know what happened. I think maybe something happened during Ronald Reagan's first term.
But I can assure you those days are gone.
You used to be able to say: "I declare, it's just beyond me to get my checkbook balanced. I try and try, but I guess I'm just not good with numbers."
And some beautiful blonde with a plunging neckline would say: "How absolutely delightful and sexy you brilliant eccentrics are."
Do it today, and some guy says: "I certainly wouldn't admit something like that in public. I balance my checkbook to the penny or know the reason why not. What are you? A pervert, maybe?"
Years of being hurt have sent me to the closet when I try to balance my checkbook, although I have never written Ann Landers about this.
I never talk about my checkbook in public anymore, and when the envelope from the bank comes in the mail, I tend to sweat and get a rapid heartbeat.
I get my aging solar energy calculator and sit down at the kitchen table. I choose this location because it's closer to the bourbon bottle under the sink - which I may need if my figuring shows that I owe the bank $150.
Once, trying to find out why the bank said I had $56.13 more than my checkbook said I had, I went back for six months, checking my arithmetic.
I didn't find a thing.
The closet I ever came to balancing the checkbook was the time the bank said it had $1.34 more than I did. That was in 1984. It was the 15th of April at 5:23 p.m., as a matter of fact.
I can't remember the birthdays of my children, but I remember the day I came within $1.34 of achieving the impossible dream.
I wanted to treat the neighborhood to champagne, but that's was kind of hard to do with a balance of $14.35, if you took the bank's version of my checking account.
I did have a beer all by myself.
by CNB