My most frequent interaction with my bank is convincing them I exist.
It’s… weird, actually. I use my bank card so much it should smoke. I pay for my groceries online (and then go pick them up, which is a fun convenience). I buy clothes and shoes and jewelry on ThredUp, and visit the terror that is Etsy far too often. I rarely have to stick my card into a reader in a public place, but I have my bank card number memorized. And yet: every once in a while, it doesn’t work… possibly because of that lack of sticking-my-card-in-a-reader thing. I think. Whatever it is, I call the bank to check in. Is there some problem with my card? And then, they scurry to verify my identity, my mother’s maiden name, her great-grandmother’s favorite color, and they look at my records. Oh, they see a move (a year ago), and then say, brightly, “Let’s update that address and phone number!” And then they say, “Oh, we updated that? A year ago? Well, we have no idea what’s happened!”
And yet: it keeps happening.
she tries to convince the electronic overlords she exists
My heart brags, I AM
Pounding in a lively beat
As bank cards decline.
The all-seeing eye, blinded
While reading a dime from space.
Oh, my god. Why? WHY?? we cry to the gods!
My least favorite thing is when only one of us is the named account holder of something (the cell phones, the New York Times subscription) and so they WILL NOT TALK to the other no matter how many sign ins and passwords and birthdates we have at hand.
Modern life is a decidedly mixed bag
@Liz: Oh, LORD, the “no, we must only speak to your husband,” thing. THAT… peeves me so much!!!!
Just got my new debit card which I cannot activate because the phone tree doesn’t agree that my birth date is my actual birth date. I foresee a conversation such as yours in my future…and I can never remember my great-grandmother’s favorite colour.
@divatobe: Oh, no!!! Once your birthday is screwed up, you may literally have to scan your birth cert for them – they did that with my license and I had to take my birth cert to the DMV. Someone ELSE’s mistake, and I had to run around. UGH.