The Tuesday My Delusion Got a Reality Check

For three weeks, I was convinced someone was stealing from me.

I didn’t want to speak to anyone about it, so I don’t sound paranoid, but I was watching my account like a hawk. Every morning, I’d open my banking app with suspicion. I refreshed and scrutinised my transaction history EVERY OPPORTUNITY I GOT.

Because the math was not mathing.

I earn well, I’m not reckless, I don’t club or gamble, and I don’t have secret children somewhere. So, why was my money behaving as if it had somewhere urgent to be? And that place certainly wasn’t my account.

Let’s rewind a bit. This whole drama started after my promotion.

After some fasting, prayer and hard work, I was finally promoted in the second quarter of last year. The salary increase, to my surprise, was about 200%. I remember calling my best friend that day and saying, “Finally, I can enjoy myself.” And enjoy I did.

Apparently, enjoying is expensive.

The first time the increased salary hit my account, everywhere first blur, after the blurriness, I saw it very clearly and started. It was small upgrades at first. I moved from “let me manage” to “why am I managing myself?” If I felt a bit stressed, I ordered food, or cakes and ice-cream. If I felt tired, I would leave my full-tank car at home and book a comfort ride. Most of the online vendors had my number, it bags, shoes, and makeup, I ordered them all. I had entered my soft girl era. I deserved ease.

That’s what I told myself.

And to be fair, nothing I was doing looked irresponsible. It wasn’t like I was spraying money in clubs or doing anything dramatic enough to justify my disappearing balance.

That’s why I was confused, and why I believed someone was stealing from me.

The breaking point came on a Tuesday afternoon. There was typically nothing special about the day. I was at work, bored, and decided to quickly check my account before transferring money for something minor (it was a pair of New Balance sneakers).

When I saw the balance, I actually checked the account number to make sure it was mine.

It was mine.

And it was low. The kind of low that makes your heart pound and makes you sit up straight. I felt offended. Because how dare my account look like that when I had done nothing extreme?

That evening, I went home determined to investigate. I downloaded my statement, and that was when I met the thief.

The thief stole ₦8,500.

Then ₦4,200.

Then ₦12,000.

Then ₦3,800.

Then ₦15,500.

Over and over again.

The thief’s name was “It’s not that much.” The thief’s accomplice was “I should enjoy small”

I stared at the numbers for a long time. Individually, each expense didn’t look outrageous, but collectively, they were an organised robbery. There was 400k in my account how many days ago, how? Just how?

That night, I felt embarrassed. Not because I was broke. I wasn’t broke-broke. I could still survive. But because I had overestimated myself. I thought earning more automatically meant I was doing better and should spend more.

The words of Fela Durotoye rang in my head, “Your spending should not be determined by your income, it should be determined by how much investment you have”. Ofure, it is not about earnin big, how much investment do you have?

I had upgraded my lifestyle without proper planning and budgeting. So, of course, the money left, it had no reason to stay.

Before the next salary came, I sat with myself and budgeted every penny of it.

A few weeks later, I was sitting with the same best friend I had called after my promotion. We were laughing about something random when she said, “Ofure, you’ve changed o, you’re calmer, your dressing is less dramatic, and your ‘snacking’ has stopped.”

I almost laughed. If only she knew the drama that had happened inside my banking app. There was no scandal or tragedy; I just caught the thief early.

Now all the money in my account is budgeted, and the quality of my life did not depreciate.