OK, so I’m not looking to bitch...
And I should know better, with Mercury in retrograde, but...
About a month ago, I sat down (as I often do) to pay my bills using my bank’s online bill-pay service. While I was going over my account activity, I noticed a number of ATM fees charged to the account. Odd, to say the least, but I don’t always notice things like this until the end of the month anyway, so I moved on. It wasn’t until I looked at my checking account balance that I noticed something was wrong—very wrong.
Over the course of the previous 48 hours, $1,100 vanished from my account. Looking the statement over, I found out someone had used an ATM card to make withdrawals at several ATM machines throughout the Los Angeles area.
In a panic, I called my bank.
Now, maybe you’ve seen the commercials on TV for my bank; the ones where they go on and on about protecting their customers from fraud, and whatnot. And maybe you haven’t. Let’s just say the response I got left me feeling a little less than enthusiastic my bank-a bank I’ve been using for the past 21 years, mind you!
I was eventually transferred to the customer fraud department (after several disconnects, and a transfer to the automated self-help line), where a representative explained what I had to do to clear the matter up. (Which is a good thing, considering I had a number of bills due.) Now, I’m not faulting this particular bank employee for doing their job in the manner they see fit, but you thing the first THREE times we had this little exchange would have been enough:
BofA “Are you in possession of the card now?”
ME “Yes.”
BofA “Are there any other cards on this account?
ME “No.”
BofA “Have you given anyone your card to use, or your PIN to use?”
ME “No, never.”
BofA “No one else knows your PIN or has had access to this card other than you?”
ME “That’s correct.”
She informed me that I must be mistaken, because according to the computer, someone had taken the cash out using my PIN, and was I sure I wasn’t the one who had taken the money out, and had just forgotten about it?
She then proceeded to explain they had seen a number of cases where a thief waiting until after a customer had used an ATM or point-of-purchase terminal (like the ones at gas stations), and then used a special device to swipe the station, obtaining card information and PINs. We reviewed the transaction on my card for the previous two weeks, and found only ONE possible case where this could have happened. But where I used the card, and where the fraud had taken place were a good 50 miles (and seven days) apart. That’s a long time for a criminal to wait, only to steal a chunk of change right before I had to pay my bills. How did they know it was bill-time, anyway? It wasn’t the end of the month (I was trying to get an early jump) and it was such a long way to drive, following me from one county to the next.
While I was waiting for the bank representative to begin processing my claim, I remembered my father mentioning an article in the paper mentioning a lap top computer stolen from my bank, containing sensitive customer information. I mentioned this, in passing, to the lady on the phone.
“Sir, that didn’t have anything to do with this, I assure you. That didn’t even happen in California.”
Uh, OK.
The bank representative ordered me a new ATM card, put the old one on hold and sent out an affadafit for me to sign. She mentioned that my account would be credited in a few days, and that I might want to file a police report.
Now, if you subscribe to the bank’s theory, the crime took place in Ventura County, where I purchased the gas, and the card information was stolen. If you look at the situation with a slightly more skeptic set of eyes, you’d see the crime as taking place in Los Angeles County, where the money was withdrawn. So, I asked her where to file.
“Los Angeles County, no doubt about it.”
That weekend, I noticed MORE fraudulent activity. It seems the person with my information had deposited money, and then made a large withdrawal.
“It’s called ‘washing the account’ and it’s quite common in cases like yours,” the bank employee on the phone assured me.
It has a name? The practice is so common, that it actually HAS A NAME? Forgive me if my confidence in my bank is a little less-than sky-high.
Like a total moron, I also pointed out an additional deposit the thieves made, before the account had (finally) been shut off. It wasn’t my money, and at that point, I figured I didn’t need the bad karma.
The lady on the phone told me that a new affidavit would arrive, and that I should sign it, and send it back right away. I asked her which county I should file in, mentioning the previous representative’s answer. (Los Angeles.)
“Oh, no sir,” she dryly remarked, “that information is absolutely incorrect, you should file in the county you live in, since that’s the address on the checks.”
Hmm.
The following Monday, I went back online, expecting to use my credit to pay my bills. But the web site said it didn’t have any record of my account.
So... I called the customer help line. The informed me I shouldn’t have been sent a new card, and that the first thing I was supposed to do was go to my home branch and change my PIN.
So... I went to my local bank branch, where I was informed that a new hold had been placed on my account. And that I should have asked for a new card, and set a new PIN on the phone prior to coming into the branch. (Uh, what?) The branch manager authorized a new card number (which she read to me, loud enough for every customer in the bank lobby to hear), changed my PIN and got my online account back up and running again.
Problem solved, right?
OK, so this story has been dragging on long enough, so I’ll just sum it up by saying that on seven separate occasions, my (new) ATM card has been declined or rejected by machines, for now apparent reason.
When I called into customer support (when they were open, thanks for the “round the clock support,” guys), each time they told me they couldn’t see a reason why the card was blocked, and suggested I try it again. And each time, the card was rejected, until one representative was nice enough to stay on the phone with me, while I tried to use the ATM, checking things on her end, each step of the way. (Which was nice, considering it was 11:45 pm; I was over 50 miles from home, with a quarter-tank of gas and $4 in my pocket.) I couldn’t take money out in the amount I wanted, but had to break it up, into smaller denominations in order to use my new card.
Oh, and that little incident put ANOTHER hold on the card. . .
When Kris Weston first gave me a peek at Chris Wide’s photos from Muscle Up, I knew he had to go on the cover of MEN magazine. We’d spent months re-working every page of the magazine (hey, after 20 years, it needed it), and Chris was everything we’d been after in a cover-man: a big, sexy man, who hadn’t plucked, tweezed or shaved every inch of his body. But (as always), there were a few complications:
OK, so today marks the end of my little experiment
Music plays a significant role in my day-to-day life—from the song playing while I’m in the shower, to the one blasting from my car stereo as I make that last turn on to the street where I live—it’s almost as if my life has a soundtrack. If I were to compile the Official Soundtrack for the month of August, 2005, it would include the following:
OK, so... just for fun, over the past three weeks, I put a one of those little counter-things on my sorry little blog. And I was kind of surprised to see the number approaching 300.
You'll fall for anything, including another war
I just opened a letter from BofA saying they've decided my temporary credit is now a permanent one... meaning they've found in my favor.
Josiah “Jay” Fisher and I have been friends for the past 6 years or so. No, not just friends - there’s something special between us. (And no, not THAT, dirt bag.) We have plenty of cute ’n’ sassy sayings, like, “my sister from another mister,” or more down to earth expressions, like, “kindred spirits.” But nothing has really every accurately summed up our friendship.
So... uh, I didn't attend any pride events this year. (San Diego may still happen - when IS that, anyway?) The funny thing about it is I don't feel like any less of a queer / gay / homo / whatever man. I don't have a decreased sense of community (that already happened), and I don't really feel like I missed much.
So super-fucking-cool, that's you! No, really... with your one-of-a-kind, Japanese street couture outfits; the hair styles no one else could get away with (or ever try), using the n-word like you were born one; calling both coasts (and several states) your home; the parade of disposable, but achingly glamorous guys you ‘dorked’-right down to the southern drawl that thickens with liquor. (And just how does that little body manage to hold it’s Penis Colossus and pitchers of Mai Tai so well?)
I'm not going to get all preachy about how intrusive the Republican-dominated government is, or how hypocritical it is for them to say they want smaller government and less government involvement and regulation of private industry and life, while limiting and/or restricting our freedoms.
So, let's just get the teasing out of the way now. I'm turning 30 today. Big whoop. Now look at my funny, awkward (and a little sad) pic and laugh. (It's OK, I did.)
