I came home before going out this evening, wanting to reheat some leftovers and maybe change before a night on the town. I was debating whether to go with my combat boots or my heeled boots with my leggings when my phone rang. It was an 866-number—probably a telemarketer. I let it go to voicemail, where such calls go to die.

I have this habit, though, when I get a number like that—I look it up. It took a bit of digging, but right when I got the alert that I had a new voicemail, I realized it was my bank’s fraud unit.

Uh oh.

Desperate phone fumbling followed, getting my banking app open and, sure enough, I had $66 left in my checking account, $800 in overdrafts, and nearly $3000 of fraudulent charges.

Pardon my language, but FUCK!

You see, I’m trying to get to the point where, by the end of the year, I keep no less than $5000 in my checking account at all times. I don’t want to think about living paycheck to paycheck. It’s the first time in my life I can get to this point, and I’d like to do so.

Plus, it’s my birthday this upcoming week. There’s always the chance I’d decide to buy myself something.

That’s gone now, along with my money. So those couple of video games that went on sale? Nope. That dress up there that I really love? Nada. All because someone, somewhere decided it would be okay to steal my data, steal my money, and probably still somehow sleep tonight.

That’s disgusting to me. It’s disgusting that such people exist. And they are why we, quite literally, can’t have nice things.