I had a bad Monday morning. It is reasonable to ask if there is any other kind, but as with all things it is a question of relativity.
After achieving a record level of unwelcome physical intimacy due to minor delays on a sweltering underground train, I rushed to work stopping only to use a cash machine. I intended to withdraw £40 in order to meet the petty financial demands of the usual traders, delicatessen owners and publicans that I will encounter throughout the week.
While I was typing in my PIN, a vague acquaintance approached me and inexplicably decided to initiate a stop-and-chat by tapping me on the shoulder. I dislike physical contact almost as much as conversation before 11am, but I successfully suppressed my instinct to tell him to fuck off and began the sadly familiar ritual of making small-talk with someone I’d ordinarily cross the street to avoid.
Perhaps it was because I was highly distracted and not yet fully awake that I managed, without any conscious effort, to retrieve my debit card from the machine and walk away without taking the fucking money.
My internet bank statement shows that £40 was withdrawn, but it’s not in my wallet. Who interrupts someone in the middle of a transaction? I want to kill the guy. I will concede it’s at least 60% my fault, but that still means he owes me £16. Where do I stand legally?