You Don't Have to be Real to Get Credit
If you're like me, you probably have one or more credit cards. And, if you're like me, you probably receive a deluge of offers from other banks offering super-duper low rates, cash back, bonus mileage points or your very own Spaceman Spiff decoder ring.
What you probably don't get are said credit card offers to fictitious people. I do.
Apparently my credit card company is convinced that I have a spouse or sister or mother named Debbie, because like clockwork, they send ol' Debs a credit card offer, telling her that she's been pre-approved for their super-duper rate and the aforementioned decoder ring. This has gone on for months despite my repeated efforts to convince them that there has not been, is not now and, barring a unforeseen turn of events, will not be a Debbie living in my abode. (Though one can never rule it out entirely, should a potential love interest named Debbie ever present herself, I'm tempted to dismiss her, just so I can prove the point. A phyrric victory, yes, but I'll take them where I can get them.)
What was worse was the "customer service" rep, when I finally got one. (I had to dial 3 different numbers to find a way to reach an operator. ) He kept trying to tell me that there was no account for Debbie attached to my address and I so badly wanted to yell into the phone: "That's my point, you idiot! You keep sending offers to someone who only exists in your fevered pink sky-colored delusionary world! Now stop it!" I finally had to tell him to just stop sending mail to this address. Period. Ah! No buts! I do my banking online and am perfectly happy without ever seeing another single waste of paper from you!
Unfortunately, this isn't my only run-in with this sort of thing. When I moved to this locale, 6 years ago, I got a phone number formerly belonging to someone named Fazi who, according to the calls I've received, needs a real estate agent and lawyer very very badly. In fact, just this morning I got yet another call from someone looking for Nancy, presumably Fazi's wife. On top of that, collections agencies and similar entities call me, looking for Kelly and Moesha, presumably some unknown distant relatives of mine, and don't quite seem to believe me that these people don't exist either.
The end result is, if you do dial my number and get my voicemail, you will get a choice message stating to the effect that if you're not looking for me (and I state my name rather clearly), go away. Don't leave a message, I don't care who else your looking for or why. Just hang up your phone and Go. Away. If I have to up the ante, my next voice mail message will start with the phrase, "Look, stupid..."
What you probably don't get are said credit card offers to fictitious people. I do.
Apparently my credit card company is convinced that I have a spouse or sister or mother named Debbie, because like clockwork, they send ol' Debs a credit card offer, telling her that she's been pre-approved for their super-duper rate and the aforementioned decoder ring. This has gone on for months despite my repeated efforts to convince them that there has not been, is not now and, barring a unforeseen turn of events, will not be a Debbie living in my abode. (Though one can never rule it out entirely, should a potential love interest named Debbie ever present herself, I'm tempted to dismiss her, just so I can prove the point. A phyrric victory, yes, but I'll take them where I can get them.)
What was worse was the "customer service" rep, when I finally got one. (I had to dial 3 different numbers to find a way to reach an operator. ) He kept trying to tell me that there was no account for Debbie attached to my address and I so badly wanted to yell into the phone: "That's my point, you idiot! You keep sending offers to someone who only exists in your fevered pink sky-colored delusionary world! Now stop it!" I finally had to tell him to just stop sending mail to this address. Period. Ah! No buts! I do my banking online and am perfectly happy without ever seeing another single waste of paper from you!
Unfortunately, this isn't my only run-in with this sort of thing. When I moved to this locale, 6 years ago, I got a phone number formerly belonging to someone named Fazi who, according to the calls I've received, needs a real estate agent and lawyer very very badly. In fact, just this morning I got yet another call from someone looking for Nancy, presumably Fazi's wife. On top of that, collections agencies and similar entities call me, looking for Kelly and Moesha, presumably some unknown distant relatives of mine, and don't quite seem to believe me that these people don't exist either.
The end result is, if you do dial my number and get my voicemail, you will get a choice message stating to the effect that if you're not looking for me (and I state my name rather clearly), go away. Don't leave a message, I don't care who else your looking for or why. Just hang up your phone and Go. Away. If I have to up the ante, my next voice mail message will start with the phrase, "Look, stupid..."
posted by The Doctor at Saturday, February 05, 2005
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