By Mike Pound
CNHI News Service

I knew I was in trouble Sunday afternoon when I saw the department store credit card instead of my regular credit card.

See, I keep my regular credit card in my wallet in front of my department store credit card. When I saw the department store credit card, I figured my regular credit card was missing.

At the time, I was standing with our 13-year-old daughter, Emma, in the lobby of the Municipal Auditorium in Kansas City. We were in line waiting to buy a couple of MIAA Tournament T-shirts.

"Emma, I think I may be in trouble," is what I said.

I remembered that I last used my credit card at P.F. Chang's the night before. Emma and my wife love P.F. Chang's. I like P.F. Chang's a lot, but it's not my favorite place to eat. My favorite place is Jack Gage's American Tavern. But P.F. Chang's is pretty good.

The thing is, I remembered putting my credit card in the little black book thing after our meal. I also remembered the waiter taking the little black book and then I remembered him bringing it back and setting it on our table.

What I didn't remember -- and this is probably critical -- is taking the credit card out of the little black book and putting it back in my wallet.

By the way, we use our credit card for things like dinner at P.F. Chang's because my wife is convinced that by doing so we will eventually earn enough bonus points to get free airline tickets, but I'm not so sure. The whole thing reminds me of stories of G.I.s who would mail Jeep parts -- one part at a time -- to their homes back in the states. The idea being that when they
got home, they would have themselves a brand new Jeep. Granted, there would be some assembly required, but still.

It's that "some assembly required" that has me worried about our "free" airline tickets.

But that's not my point here. My point here is that, Sunday afternoon, I wasn't 100 percent sure of the exact location of my credit card. And really, when you think about it, anything short of being 100 percent sure of the exact location of your credit card is too short.

Clearly, I was facing a dilemma. The dilemma was not whether I should leave the game and immediately drive to P.F. Chang's. I figured if the credit card was at P.F. Chang's, it would still be there after the game. And if it wasn't at P.F. Chang's, it would still not be there after the game.

No, the dilemma I was facing was when I should tell my wife about my missing
credit card:

No. 1: Immediately.

Or

No. 2: After the game.

I chose No. 2. I knew that if I told my wife about the credit card before the game started, she would come unglued and yell at me. Whereas, if I waited until after the game to tell her about the credit card, she would still come unglued and yell at me, but at least I would be able to watch the game in peace.

So after the game, as we drove away, I casually mentioned to my wife that before we left town that I needed to stop by P.F. Chang's.

"Why?" my wife asked.

"Uh ... because I think maybe, I might, possibly, perhaps, sort of left my
credit card there last night," I said.

My wife said several bad words. Then she took out her phone and dialed a number. Then she said: "Hello, we were in your restaurant last night and my dumb *^%$ husband thinks he left his credit card. The name is Pound.
Yes,I'll wait."

While my wife waited she glared at me. The whole time my wife was glaring at
me I was thinking: "Oh yeah, I guess I could have called them myself. That would have been a lot easier."

I'm not the brightest fortune cookie in the bowl.

It turns out the nice folks at P.F. Chang's did have my credit card.

And, according to my wife, they laughed when she again called me a "dumb *^%$." Then they gave her a card for a free appetizer. I guess they felt sorry for her.

Can you blame them?

Mike Pound writes for The Joplin (Mo.) Globe. He can be reached at mpound@joplinglobe.com. CNHI News Service distributes his column.