We received an automated phone message the other morning from the fraud division of Citibank, the provider of our MasterCard. The voice gave instructions for us to call a certain number if we had not just attempted to charge thousands of dollars worth of electronic equipment on our charge card. The voice went on to say if it wasn’t us making this online purchase, then it was someone not authorized to use our card. Husband and I looked at each other and shook our heads in surrender. It wasn’t us.
I used to be baffled by identity theft and how it could occur. Now I’m just vigilant. I have a friend who’s still clawing her way out of legal and credit problems as a result of techno treachery, and I know enough to know that no one’s armor is impervious to invasion.
At a job I had for several years, we dealt with online orders so I’m familiar with the plaintive cry of the desperately dishonest. Our company policy was to ship only to the address of the cardholder and we would verify anything out of the ordinary. Every now and then, a customer would give a sob story as to why their order needed to go to their boyfriend’s workplace, their sister’s house, the convenience store down the block, JUST THIS ONCE. “This is on the level, I swear to God!” And what God would that be? The Mail Fraud Almighty? The Patron Saint of Dogs and Stoopid People? No woof.
Husband and I were thrilled to hear that Citibank would not put the bogus sale through, and when we called in, they canceled the card on the spot and issued a new one to be sent out immediately. This was a far cry from my experience with Capital One, which I wrote about in Dear Mr. Fairbank. That one had me ready to fire warning shots into a throw pillow. My particular drama with their credit card happened before our economy sunk into its current abyss, and maybe banks in general now are more motivated to hold onto valued customers. But my correspondence with Capital One is not one I’m eager to resurrect, so I’ll just continue to give Citibank its props.
Here’s what I do, though, to protect myself. I pay cash at the gas station and anywhere else another person swipes my card out of my view. For online purchases, I use PayPal whenever possible. If I have to enter a credit card number, I always check the box that says ‘do not store my information’. I give no authorizations for any company or service to link directly to my checking account. I don’t mind buying stamps and writing checks. It’s retro, I know, but that’s just me. Or at least, I think it’s me.
That sound you hear in Daughter’s Featured Fotos is The Call of Nature
mohawk
crabs
treehouse
hanging out