My oldest is not happy with the International Bank of Dad. This is because, to her mind, the IBD president is rather unreasonably insisting she spend her own money.

She doesn’t realize things are about to get worse.

Because yesterday was brass band performance day, today was a day off. Our oldest therefore decided to meet up with her friend and go to karaoke at a place one station away from ours.

She first, however, tried to a get a no-strings attached grant from the IBD. The grant was refused and the shockingly handsome president of the IBD instead extracted money from her account and told her she could spend that.  He also, rather kindly, exchanged the loose coins for an actual note. This earned a huff and an eye roll but little argument.

(He also carefully explained the difference between “being home by 6:00” and “calling at 6:00 to say you’ll be home soon” and the consequences involved with the latter.)

Our oldest arrived home with fifteen minutes to spare and immediately began demanding money for tomorrow’s outing. Tomorrow she’ll be serving as an assistant at another battle of the bands. This involves moving chairs and serving as an usher. It also means she’ll need money to get to the performance hall.

Once again, she tried to get a no-strings attached grant.

The dashing president of the IBD told her she shouldn’t have spent her money today if she knew she’d need it tomorrow and tried to explain the concept of “planning ahead” but then remembered he was talking to teenager who’s concept of money seemed to involve , well, teenager logic.

The charming, yet humble president of the IBD then told her he’d advance her allowance to cover the expenses. This was met with a reply that reached an “Occupy Dad Street” level of outrage and obnoxiousness. Our oldest didn’t understand why she had to spend her own money on something that was volunteer. (In her defense, the distinguished president of the IBD didn’t understand why he had to spend his money on something that was volunteer either.)

In the end, the issue was left unresolved. There will, however, be a deal made. The IBD will front the money in exchange for two-and-half hours of labor (laundry, dishes, cleaning the kitchen, etc.) This is how long our oldest would have to work to earn the money the hauntingly good-looking president of the IBD plans to lend her.

She won’t be happy, but the alternative is doing the laundry, dishes and kitchen cleaning for free as a punishment.