Entertaining story, told not so entertainingly

Yesterday I deposited most of my paycheck into Stephanie's checking account - since that's the one that we use for paying bills and mortgages and whatnot. I've done this many many times over the years, and most of the tellers at the bank know me, and know Steph. Or, rather, know Steph's name, since when they type in her account number, her name shows up on the computer.

So, yeseterday, I put the money into the account, and the teller & I did the usual, "This is for your wife, right?"
"Yep."
"And you're not on her account?"
"Nope."
rigamarole.

Today, I got an email from Steph who told me that when she checked the account online, she discovered that the money I deposited was, in fact, NOT in there.
It was also not in my account (she checked in case I had suffered mass brain damage and deposited into my account on accident).

I still had the receipt in the van, proving that I had made the deposit. I got that, and saw that the final 4 digits on the reciept did not match the final 4 digits of Steph's account.

Oh. Crap.

So, I got into the van, drove the 2.5 miles to the bank in a *very* short amount of time, and spoke with the same teller as yesterday. Turns out that she mistyped the account number. (But she saw Steph's name when she brought up the other account!? Neither of us could figure that one out. Because when she brought up the 'wrong' one this time, it did not have Steph's name there. Weird.)

Anyway, she took the money out of the wrong one, and put it into my wife's, and apologized a gabillion times for the error. Yay for getting money back where it belongs and not losing our house!

And that's the end of the story.