Certain language lines I won't cross in my writing but there is a woman out there who earns that C word. If we were all sitting in my kitchen, I'd say it freely. And frequently. And I'm sure there would even be some adjectives that might even be MORE offensive than "that word." Yes. For Sure.
This is to the person who is parading around somewhere with a driver's license bearing MY name, MY address, MY date of birth and HER photograph. You are that word. The C word. Here's what I hope will be the quick version. Two days ago, there was a message on my phone from a department store. I am so immune to the fraud warning phone calls, I MIGHT have ignored the message. Except, I don't use department store charge cards. I have some. But I try to keep things on one or two credit cards.
I have chemobrain. I can't deal with all these different bills coming at me from a dozen directions. My finances and my bill paying abilities have taken a hit from the chemo cocktail. My brain evaluation identified issues primarily around numbers. The focus, the ADD, the "getting started" ..... those are all bonus round add ons that have piled into my brain over time.
This lovely woman gets on the phone with me, looks up my account and asks me if I was in the store on August 10. Two things cross my mind immediately. WHY are you calling me twelve days later AND, you must be kidding me if you think I can recall if I happened to be in a certain store on a specific day two weeks prior. I don't know where I was an hour ago. Is this woman nuts? When I actually grabbed my trusty iPhone to check the calendar, it begged the question: "Who is more nuts.... the woman asking the question or YOU, looking at a phone calendar?
No, I tell the woman. I'm fairly sure I wasn't in the store on that day.
"The sales associate made several attempts to get the purchase to go through, but the ID number on the driver's license didn't match the number we have on file."
Now, I'm getting a bit concerned. "You mean to tell me someone was in the store with a license bearing my information and someone else's photograph??"
"Yes. Let me look at what happened. When the ID number on the license didn't match, we asked her a few security questions and she didn't answer them correctly. The sales associate made another attempt to complete the transaction and it went to the next level of security questions."
I'm pretty sure I was catching flies with my open mouth by this point and I was definitely not fully comprehending what I was hearing. First, WHY was the sales associate attempting the purchase again and second, the next level of security questions? I've been ID'd using that next level of questions. If you haven't, let me just say they are frightening. Things like "which one of the following is a street where you NEVER lived?" And, three of the streets are from my past. And I'm talking like 30 years ago, PAST. It's Big Brother, George Orwell scary.
And it gets better. "Oh, there are some additional notes here. Did you request an increase in your credit limit on this account?" Now I'm CERTAIN I was no where near this store. I have been known to drop entire "episodes" from my life but there was too much detail being provided by this positively wonderful woman who was trying to help me sort this out. And, she didn't even know about the chemobrain.... "No. I've never ever ever requested a credit increase on any credit card. In.My.Life." The bank would occasionally notify me...... "Congratulations, we have raised the limit on your card," but those increases were never as a result of something I initiated.
Moving right along, "Wait. I see a jewelry account was opened in the store." Now I'm beginning to get really (sorry mom) FUCKING pissed off. "Jewelry???" Again, who knew you could open a separate "jewelry account" on a department store charge. Had she said handbags.... well, I have this thing for fine Italian leather bags because my own initials are enough (that is the tagline of my very favorite line of bags)...... or shoes because I'm still jonesin for those Loubies..... it would make perfect sense. But jewelry? I don't buy myself jewelry. My jewelry? All gifts. Even if they are "I'm sorry" gifts. And, for what it's worth, my current favorite piece was an "I owe you" gift. For now, we'll just leave that right there. It's a story for another day. Maybe.
This bitch, the one parading around with my information on a phony driver's license wreaked total havoc on my evening. First, 45 minutes on the phone with the department store. It was a whole process to CLOSE the account because even though I could answer all the first line security questions, the account was compromised. Specific procedure had to be followed and she needed to generate those Orwellian questions. Except they wouldn't generate. Why? They take 24 hours to regenerate. "That's odd. They should generate new questions. After all, this was already almost two weeks ago."
My brain may be compromised but there's still a bit of Dick Tracy in there. Was someone generating those questions in ANOTHER situation within the past 24 hours trying to hack into my life elsewhere? Is that why the questions weren't working? Femara flashes quickly turned to droplets of nervous sweat despite the fact that you can hang meat in my house. Ultimately, the account was closed, Trans Union was called. My credit is now blocked by all three credit bureaus AND, I have to keep the monitoring service on my credit for a few months.
Whoever you are, running around as me..... let me just tell you a little about yourself. You are so determined to BE ME..... Take the fucking license, take my identity and while you're at it, there are a few other strings attached you stupid bitch.
- How would you like to be running around with amputated tits.
- Wait til you see how annoying these implants can be. It really sucks to have NO sensation at all in a highly erogenous zone UNLESS you are itching like a mo-fo.
- Ready for the bi-annual MRI, bitch?
- Implants are in five years. Good shot you will be back in an operating room at some point within the next 3 years for a new set of implants. The anesthesia part is fun but having that muscle messed with is gonna fuck you up for a long time.
- Tattoo's are beginning to fade. Even though I didn't feel pain, there was a sensation. You ready to sit in the docs office knowing when they finish one side, you get to start the process all over again on the other side?
- How about the fact that you look like a woman but every female body part is in a medical waste field somewhere..... And I do mean EVERY part so the surgeon had to rework your anatomy. I'm sure you have NO clue how great THAT is.
- You into pills? Hope so since there's a whole host of shit in the daily pill case. The smallest pill of all will wreak havoc like you've never seen. Femara flashes, thinning hair and skin, bone loss.
- Almost forgot, this massive dental issue thanks to upper jaw bone loss. That situation is likely leading to something called a sinus lift so your entire face doesn't collapse. All cancer related and good luck getting the insurance company to pay one red cent. We're talking enough work to purchase a luxury automobile. If the money part of it isn't upsetting enough, how about the fact that this is going to be months and months of MORE "medical" visits. And you hate the dentist. He's a great guy, but the dentist office is a PTSD zone. This is gonna be great.
- Then there's the whole cancer thing and that looking over your shoulder shit.
- I have a few personal issues going on, too. Some relationship shit. Frankly, it's beginning to take a bit of a toll on me so I'll gladly let you take that on and do the work to finish putting my personal life back in order.
Thanks a fucking lot. I really needed a dose of aggravation to take with my bulleted list of bullshit.
Happy shopping you stupid whore.
Now.... I would like to apologize to anyone who might have been offended by my language. Sometimes, a good curse session is the only thing that will do. This is one of those sometimes......