I wasn’t expecting a nasty surprise when I opened my bank’s online records system this afternoon. I was hoping to find whether my idiot landlord had finally cashed my rent check — but I didn’t think I’d be looking at a list of not-quite-yet cleared charges totaling around $500, all from the last two days.

Uh, I haven’t spent even close to $500 in the last two days.

I started looking at the cleared charges, which list some details about each transaction’s origin. There’s $2, from a company in Idaho. Another $47 from someone in Utah. What the hell is Bid Fuel and why did they charge me $30?

Uh-oh.

I called the bank’s customer-service line immediately. The nice lady there sounded concerned. She asked me if I wanted to cancel my debit card; I said yeah, that’s probably a good idea. She also outlined what I need to do next — contact each of the companies that had charged my card and collect whatever information I could. A visit to my local police station to file a report. And then a stop at the local bank branch to file a fraud report and an application for a new card.

I’ll go through that process again at least on Thursday and perhaps another time or two, as those last few charges show up on my statement. The good news is that I’ve apparently done everything right so far; if the bank is notified of the suspected fraudulent charges within two days — and the customer jumps through the significant number of hoops the bank requires — it must refund the money I’ve lost, less the $50 they’re not required to replace.

If most of the still-pending charges are bad ones, I’m looking at a loss, albeit a temporary one, of about $600. And while I would love to see the motherfucker who’s responsible for this massive hassle be prosecuted, I’m pragmatic enough that the really important thing is to get that money back.

If you want to tell me at this point about the dangers of using debit cards — especially for online purchases — you can go right ahead. But understand — I think I’ve done everything possible to guard my information. I don’t permit the Amazons of the internet to store my card number. I carefully track my transactions and check my bank statement almost to the point of obsession.

But there have been instances when I’ve been exposed. My alma mater, Ohio University, is still digging out from the public relations horrors of giving away the personal information of hundreds of thousands of students and alumni. And I was proud to hear my personal information was given away again by the United States Department of Veterans Affairs, when that asshat took home his laptop — brimming with names, addresses and Social Security Numbers of thousands of veterans — and it was stolen from his house.

So — it’s easy to blame the internet. But it just as easily could have been that bartender I  handed my card to on Saturday night. It could have been a kid who works at the local Target. I don’t know, and I probably never will.

Here’s the thing. There are worse problems to have. My paycheck hadn’t landed in my account, so I’ll have all the money I need in the short term.  And I’m fairly confident that almost all of the money I’ve lost will be returned.

But what I should be doing on Thursday, instead of visiting disinterested police officers and overly earnest bank tellers and filling out forms, is finishing my weekend feature and getting excited about traveling to Columbus that evening to get ready for the weekend.

Regulars here are well aware that I’m a freak for Ohio State football, and opening weekend — the first tailgate party of the year, seeing friends I haven’t seen since last fall, that first game — is usually like a freaking holiday for me. But now, I’m trying to take care of all of this other bullshit, and it’s completely sucked the joy out of what is usually a great time of the year for me.

Again. There are worse problems to have. And I think I’m going to be reasonably close to OK once this is done. But still — I hate that I have to go this hassle. And I hate — HATE — the shithead responsible.