NEWTON'S LAW: BANKING WITH A SMILE SHOULD BE WITH A WING AND A PRAYER

I like the place where I bank. As the continuing relationships in my life go, this is about the least volatile of them.

Once a week, I walk into my bank with a paycheck. Once a week, the people there take it graciously. I thank them for watching my money. They thank me for being so trusting. They tell me to have a nice day. I say something clever like, "You too."

It is all very cordial and professional, a well-oiled and highly civilized machine of finance.

Occasionally, I carry out these transactions on the run and go to the drive-through window. I get the same courtesy and professionalism there. We go through the same routine, only at a distance.

They are forgiving people at my bank. They don't seem to mind that I've chosen to conduct my meager business through a pneumatic tube and address them from my car through a squawking electronic box.

My feeling, one I haven't tested in years, is that the folks at my bank wouldn't be nearly as forgiving if I regularly removed more money from their safekeeping than I stockpiled with them.

Something tells me their courtesy might be a little forced in that case.

While I would never allow the subject to come up in my weekly visits to the bank, I've never been a scholar in the area of personal finances.

Early in our marriage, my wife learned this and immediately assumed control of the family treasury. When I write a check now, I assume there is money somewhere to cover it. I report to my wife on the damage I've done.

On those occasions when I forget to report, the monthly bank statement reveals me and I am admonished by my wife. When I report all the checks I've written, she tells me I've done good.

The positive reinforcement does wonders for my outlook.

But for the grace of this system go I. Were it not for spousal maintenance of the bank account, I would lose respect in the eyes of those people who tell me weekly to have a nice day. Once the ripple effect of negative reinforcement begins, there is no way to block it.

Life and banking would be a breeze if only real life were like Congress.

As witness to this assumption, the U.S. General Accounting Office issued a report last week that disclosed, in so many words, that I am a genius at handling a personal bank account compared to your average federal lawmaker.

At the U.S. Capitol, the American taxpayers provide a number of niceties for their elected officials. There is a dining room, a barber shop and a post office on the premises. There is also a bank.

My bank is friendly. This bank is friendlier.

According to the GAO, U.S. House members using this bank wrote 4,325 checks that bounced in the first half of 1990. This an average of almost 10 bad checks for each of the 435 representatives.

The next time a legislator indicates he's inflexible on an issue, ask him if he believes in elasticity of banking.

But, hey, these guys are tied up with the nation's business. Can't we forgive them for overdrawing their accounts by a few bucks?

Well, during this six-month period, 134 House members bounced 581 checks of $1,000 or more.

I know what you're thinking. I called Washington and discovered the GAO didn't name names in its report; we don't know who was responsible for the irresponsibility. The GAO merely wanted to shame the House members, not embarrass them.

Shaming members of the U.S. House of Representatives on their own comfortable turf is a miracle on the order of fish and loaves. Still, House Speaker Thomas Foley declared this week that the predicament at the Capitol bank is "unacceptable" and pledged new rules to crack down on the lawbreaking lawmakers.

The answer to your question: $348.3 billion. I knew you'd ask about the estimated 1992 federal budget deficit. It will be the largest in history. Now we know a bit more about how the number got so big.