Monday, February 12, 2007
Compromising Position
Two and a half weeks ago, I got a letter from my bank saying that my Mastercard debit card was no good and that I had to get a new one. Suspecting a scam, I took the letter to the customer service rep of the branch near my office.
"Yes, this is real," she replied. "Your card's been compromised."
Okay, card, assume the position. "What?"
"Somebody hacked into Mastercard's system and we have to cancel your card and issue you a new one." Four forms and a notary public later, I left, the rep telling me that I would receive my new card in seven to ten working days.
Last Monday, I got a call from my landlord's accountant.
"Did you order a Mastercard?"
"Yes. Why do you have it?"
"Your security deposit is at the same bank. They must have gotten the addresses confused."
"Okay, could you hold it there for me? I'll pick it up tomorrow."
Tuesday, of course, I couldn't pick up anything, being homebound with the flu. I called the accountant and she assured me she would drop it in the mail.
Thursday, I check the mail, no card. Maybe she'd mailed it late on Tuesday. Friday, no card. Saturday, I turned the key in the lock of the mailbox saying confidently to myself, "It will be here." It wasn't there.
This morning, I called the accountant back.
"I gave it to your building's agent and she slipped it under your door on Friday." Now, I know the cats are capable of picking up everything from a grocery receipt to a piece of penne pasta and hiding it, but my husband was home all day on Friday and nobody slipped anything under our door.
I spoke to the building's agent.
"Sure! I gave it to the super and he told me he slipped it under your door."
She's now trying to contact the super, who is probably on his way to Rio de Janiero with my card. More on this as it develops.
Update: Someone mysteriously slipped the envelope under our door about 15 minutes after I wrote the above. Mysteriously.
"Yes, this is real," she replied. "Your card's been compromised."
Okay, card, assume the position. "What?"
"Somebody hacked into Mastercard's system and we have to cancel your card and issue you a new one." Four forms and a notary public later, I left, the rep telling me that I would receive my new card in seven to ten working days.
Last Monday, I got a call from my landlord's accountant.
"Did you order a Mastercard?"
"Yes. Why do you have it?"
"Your security deposit is at the same bank. They must have gotten the addresses confused."
"Okay, could you hold it there for me? I'll pick it up tomorrow."
Tuesday, of course, I couldn't pick up anything, being homebound with the flu. I called the accountant and she assured me she would drop it in the mail.
Thursday, I check the mail, no card. Maybe she'd mailed it late on Tuesday. Friday, no card. Saturday, I turned the key in the lock of the mailbox saying confidently to myself, "It will be here." It wasn't there.
This morning, I called the accountant back.
"I gave it to your building's agent and she slipped it under your door on Friday." Now, I know the cats are capable of picking up everything from a grocery receipt to a piece of penne pasta and hiding it, but my husband was home all day on Friday and nobody slipped anything under our door.
I spoke to the building's agent.
"Sure! I gave it to the super and he told me he slipped it under your door."
She's now trying to contact the super, who is probably on his way to Rio de Janiero with my card. More on this as it develops.
Update: Someone mysteriously slipped the envelope under our door about 15 minutes after I wrote the above. Mysteriously.
