I’m a Professional Credit Card Fraud Victim

Single, Athletic Credit Card
Fraud Artist Looking For
Companionship, Maybe More

As Apocalypse 2013 continues for me, at least it’s starting to develop a sense of humor.

Early this morning I got a call from a toll-free number. Normally I wouldn’t answer it, but calling before 8:00 is out of the question. If you’re going to try and sell me a Life Alert, you’d better wait until I’ve had a couple of cups of coffee.

The recorded voice said it was my bank, and that this was not a telemarketing call. The robot continued to explain that it was in regard to my credit card, and it spouted out the last four digits of the account number. If this is a Nigerian scam, it’s a good one.

Then the scammers made one tiny little mistake. Their recording asked me to enter my ZIP code. Ha! The bank already has my ZIP code, morons.

Now, let me paint the picture for you on how I saw the scene on the other end. Three or four of them huddled around a burning 55-gallon barrel, cooking up a yak, and laughing it up while I gave them the info they needed to buy that Slap Chop they’ve seen on TV.

(Make sure and watch through the :54-second mark. You’re welcome.)

So with enough force to crack my phone screen even worse, I punched that END button, and went about my morning.

For about 5 seconds.

What if it was legitimate? I’ve been the victim of card fraud before — twice to be exact. Maybe if somebody steals your credit card info 3 times, you get some kind of a prize, I thought!

So I called the number on the back of the card. I don’t know why, but apparently I have this knack for calling people on their first day of work. This guy was more useless than a plunger in the backstage bathroom at the Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show. He was less help to me than Tim Tebow was to the Jets.

He gave me another phone number to call. No answer. But by now,  it was time for the bank to open. So I called them. They’re just down the street. It’s 2013 for Heaven’s sake; they had to be able to look up my account information.

Nope. The person on the other end politely gave me an 800 number for customer service, thanked me for my call and asked me what else she could help me with. I figured the number she gave me probably rang within earshot of the yak barbecue, but I called anyway. By this time the whole ordeal had been going on for 48 minutes. And, then something magical happened.

An angel named Mary answered. I told her my story. I told her I had been trying to get help for 48 minutes. I told her the card number, my address, and I apologized in advance for not having a password. And she said, “I can help you.”

Mary: “Did you buy two tickets on Asia Airlines?”

Me: “No. What else is charged on there?”

Mary: “Just a $33 membership to ChristianMingle.com.”

christian mingleI laughed. Mary laughed (but only after I laughed). I realize credit card fraud is a billion dollar problem, but if Mary and the gang over at customer service are so inclined, they can get this guy. All they have to do is go to ChristianMingle.com and look for this profile:

“Hi I’m Richard, Capricorn, originally from Nigeria. I like long walks on the beach, Michael Buble, cuddling, using my Slap Chop and eating barbecued yak. No smoking, no drugs.  Credit card scams only in moderation.”

Thanks, Apocalypse 2013, for finally developing a sense of humor.

About Barry Currin

Barry tries to be funny and poignant, and he's usually satisfied when he succeeds with one or the other. (Being both is awesome. And sometimes that happens.) Email him: currin01@gmail.com

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