Apparently, here in California, when someone owes you money and can’t track you down, the money is paid into a central fund with the state treasurer. I assume other states have similar provisions. The treasurer doesn’t have the wherewithal to track you down, so there it stays until someone does the research to uncover it. Here’s the website for all you Californians (past and present) to use to see if you have any moolah waiting for you to claim it. Remember to search under your maiden name, too. And no, the money your brother-in-law owes you will not be there; it’s where money from escrow accounts, utility companies, forgotten trust accounts, etc. winds up. Please check back in and let us know if you struck it rich.
Well, I had heard about this website before on the news, but, of course I promptly forgot all about it until you mentioned it.
Anyways, went on there, and tinkered around, checking out names, and tried my mother’s name. She was on there–money from an old savings account from a bank that shut down years ago. She was as surprised as I was. The big payoff?
$45.90
Well, not exactly millions, but it pays for dinner.
I circulated the website around here at work, and one woman found she had $200 waiting for her, and another about $50. I was first told about this website by a boss of mine who found $5,000 was his to claim, money forgotten in a trust by his deceased father. Grrrrr! It’s not like the guy wasn’t wealthy already!
Damn, I’m gonna hijack this into a fantasy thread.
I’m a New Yorker, but I could overcome my natural California Repugnance if I could live there as a millionaire.
Lessee…I’d have my townhouse in Pacific Heights in San Francisco, with a chauffeured limousine to haul my ass around town to the bars and clubs.
A country place up around Mendocino, with several hundred acres of vineland so’s I could make my own wine. None of that Napa/Sonoma crap…I want a place on the mountains closer to the sea, to give my vino a tang!
Of course, I’d keep a pied-a-terre in the West Village. And a house on the coast of Maine. And a brownstone in Boston’s Back Bay. And a beach house on the Outer Banks of North Carolina. And a place in Charleston, just for entertaining during the music festival. And a cottage in Key West.
Damn, I’m blowing this.