Cash is King
I was sitting at a bar one Friday evening waiting for some friends. It was late, and a bartender with a shrill voice shouted over the music to whoever was unfortunate enough to be working a late Friday on the other end of the phone. It took a few moments to figure out what was going on. She was yelling at the credit card company. A bar patron had left moments earlier, and she'd closed out the guy's tab but given him the wrong credit card. The problem was exacerbated because this particular bar required you to leave your driver's license with your credit card, and she'd also given the wrong ID to the wrong person. It probably wouldn't have been as big of a deal if the guy whose ID had been given away didn't need to get on a flight the next morning. She was trying to find out where the guy with the wrong credit card was spending his money so that they might track him down. It wasn't going well. Instead of getting involved and lecturing their ID/credit card policy, I asked for my card back and ran to the ATM. They gave me my own card, which was handy since I would have been guessing someone else's PIN all night.
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