Thank you for your regular calls
There’s a fellow from one of the major credit card companies that keeps in touch with me. I assume he’s one fellow, even if his name changes regularly. I recognize his voice, and he does have an accent that betrays him as someone who has never gone to school with me. Anyhow, he worries about my financial dealings. Real or otherwise.
He wants to make sure that my transaction of $1400 on eBay, several hours ago, was justified. Even went so far as to ask what I had bought; he probably knows that I only buy stuff worth pennies when shopping on that site late at night. Here’s the catch. He doesn’t like it when I remind him that he doesn’t need to know how I spend my money (real or otherwise). Generally gets all excited and hangs up, abruptly. That’s when I really hear his accent.
What a terrible job to have. Trying to trick people out of their financial information. Most people are too willing to share their details with everyone else. My birthday? Here you are; don’t forget to send a card. My mother’s maiden name? I’ll ask her, the next time we talk. I know her as Mom, the wife of Dad. And as for the last four digits of my credit card? Why, that’s easy. ****, just like they appear on every credit slip (that I no longer save for my eventual economic biography.) Come on. If you want to trick me, ask about how my dogs are doing. If you really know me, then you are aware of the total number of hounds in my Baskervilla.
But, keep calling. I like the attention.
