Cuello de Gimpy, Cuello de Gimpy, Cuello de Gimpy.
Today, neck is woeful sore. This morning self decided, in fit of magnanimity, to pick up stalled investigation into fraudulent charges on Dearest Mum’s bank account. Even though she knows that in doing so she is entering a bottomless pit of confusion that will never ever ever end, will probably still be coming back to haunt self a decade hence.
That is, self decided to attempt once again to access said account so that she could obtain Holy Grail of claim form for Dearest Mum, which has not been forthcoming because every time self goes to Bank of America branch, or attempts to call 800 number, account has been flagged, all sorts of alarm bells go off, security officer comes online, asks for self’s social security number, or Dearest Mum’s social security number, and says there is “no match.” End of story.
So, Bank of America keeps sending letters, requests, demands for payment on thousands of dollars worth of purchases to Landmark and Rustan’s Supermarket. And Dearest Mum in the Philippines just keeps ignoring same because, after all, anyone can see they are not hers, and when self makes one last attempt this morning, she provides Dearest Mum’s social security number, and that seems to go well — that is, self is permitted to next level on menu. But then self is asked for Dearest Mum’s ATM number, and right after self has provided it, just as self puts away paper with number, deep male voice intones: Once again.
So self has to scramble to retrieve paper (ominous silence on other end of the line) And this time, on the repeat, she stumbles, and account is closed again. Sorry, no access.
So self, in some desperation, calls B of A Customer Service and explains the whole situation, for the nth time. And the Customer Service Rep is indeed very sympathetic. But she requests “verbal verification.” And self is so confused, she says, “What is that?”
“For security purposes, verbal verification is required.”
Now, if Customer Service Rep had simply up and asked self a question, self would have been very happy to comply. But rep seems to think self has to come up with her own question (so this is something like Jeopardy?)
So self rather nervously provides her own social security number, her own date of birth, her own address, and everything is wrong of course, even though yes, self is on the account. And then self thinks: Wait a minute, I don’t want my social security #, or my address, or anything else about me to be linked to this account, which has obviously been ransacked by clever impostor, and Customer Service Rep keeps saying, just go in, just go in, just go in, request a W-9 to confirm your social security number, and self tells her I have gone in, but the branch manager keeps saying they have no forms there, and everything must be done on-line, and . . .
Wait a minute, why am I doing this again???
OK, self takes out her little tea candle kit. And opens a bottle labeled Le Fragrance d’Ambiante (Pomegranate & Currant). Because fragrance is serenity. Isn’t it? Isn’t it?