So my debit card got hacked at a gas station, my bank told me. (The branch manager advised me to buy gas with cash.) I’ve been cleaning up all the assorted billings that went wrong.
This morning, a collection agency contacted me — over a $16 purchase that I’d accidentally charged to the hacked card. You know, instead of sending me an email telling me to update my payment methods. I suppose it got a fraud alert, so it was my own damn fault. Grrr.
How was your week?
I feel your pain! I had to change my credit card number recently due to a bogus charge. My problem is, going back over my charges, I can’t think of who compromised my card. Like you said, AAARRRGGHH,!
Well, I found out there’s some Mississippi white-trash out there with same date of birth only a different middle name. Registered sex-offender. Turned up in “background checks” when attempting to purchase pickup insurance, and a membership at the Y.
Did I mention it is white? Doesn’t look anything like me: bald-headed (I’ve a braid down the middle of my back), sparse facial hair (Gandalf), coke-bottle glasses, meth-teeth, 5ft8 (I on a good day in -ahem- 5ft5), 180 lbs (big breakfast no bowel movement I might make 130). And two thousand miles away. You know, under supervision.
“I’m sorry Mr Bears, but we’re just doing our job. Surely you understand?”
My housemate who is fighting to keep this house in a messy divorce was 5 minutes late to court and got a judgement against her so the Sheriffs may show up at any point to escort us off of the property.