My mom bought me what was supposed to be a reusable debit card. All I had to do was activate it, and I’d have money for gas/food, and she could load money on it whenever she wanted/I needed.

How it works is you buy a temporary card, loading however much on it that you want, and then you sign up on the internet for a permanent card that is linked to your name and address.

My father does not know my mother has bought me this card and is not allowed to know for various reasons.

As I’m trying to activate the card, it refuses to acknowledge my address. 

I spend an hour typing my address in over and over before calling the company.

Card Company: “Well, is your house real?”

Me: *After looking at my house, at my bills, at Google Maps because, did the matrix glitch and put me on the street?* “Yes… It’s a real house.”

Card Company: “Are you sure it’s a real address?”

Me: “Why is this even a question? I am sitting inside my house at [Address] right now!”

Card Company: “Do you receive mail at your address?”

Me: *Looking at my bills again.* “Yes! Why won’t your system recognize my address?”

Card Company: “Do you have a PO box? If you’re using a PO box, it won’t work.”

Me: “I am typing in [address] exactly as it appears on my mortgage, insurance paperwork, paystubs, electrical, gas, water, and city sewage bills. Exactly as it pulls up on Google maps. It’s a real, valid address that a mail person delivers mail to six days a week. In fact, as I’m on the phone with you, my mail lady just dropped off my latest mortgage statement!”

Card Company: “Well, you said someone bought you the card… can you put their address in?”

Me: “No. I can’t. My father lives at that address, and I cannot have him find out my mother bought me this card.”

Card Company: “Can you send it to a friend?”

Me: “My trustworthy friends live at least four hours from my house in another state entirely.”

Card Company: “Well, can’t you send it to them?”

Me: “Uh…no. Because they live in a different state. Like… a multi-hour drive two states away from me.”

Card Company: “Well, you can change the address when you get the card.”

Me: “What do you not understand?! I can’t send this to someone else! Can you type in my address in your system and activate the card for me?”

Card Company: “Oh… we don’t activate cards over the phone. You have to do that over the internet.”

Me: “But I can’t… because your system won’t recognize my address.”

Card Company: “Are you sure your address is real?”

Me: “Can I speak to a supervisor?”

A five-minute hold and five-minute recap later:

Card Company Supervisor: “Are you sure your address is real?”

Me: “For fudge’s sake… Can I use the funds that are on this temporary card?”

Card Company Supervisor: “Oh, of course!”

Me: “Good. And by the way, I work for the only company that sells this card. You can bet your bum that I will be telling every person who I see buy these exactly what happened in this call.”

Card Company Supervisor: “Oh, well, there’s no need for that.”

Me: “Then type in my address and finish the sign-up.”

Card Company Supervisor: “We can’t do that. Are you sure your address is real? And you aren’t using a PO box?”

I gave up at this point and just hung up. I filled my gas tank twice with the card and told my mom to just send me a money transfer via the store I work at when I need it.

It is the late 2000s. We get a corporate memo about a fraud ring hitting stores in multiple states. They use stolen credit cards to order expensive TVs, laptops, and gaming consoles for “pickup” or “delivery” to shady addresses. They’d do things like give an apartment number, then meet the delivery in the lobby, claiming the elevator was out. Losses were running into the tens of thousands.

A few days later, the phone rings. Big order, I mean massive.

Caller: “Can you deliver this to Newark?”

Me: “Sure. Let me get your credit card details.”

They give me a Mastercard. I ask for a callback number to confirm the delivery address. There’s a pause.

Caller: “Uh… let me give you a Visa instead.”

Me: “Okay… but Visa requires a callback number, too.”

Caller: “I’ll call you back.” *Click.*

That was all the confirmation I needed. I called our head office and said:

Me: “I think it’s the crew from the memo.”

The M.O. matched perfectly. Corporate told me:

Corporate: “If they call back, see if you can get an Amex instead, but don’t ask for the callback number this time. Just set it up.”

Sure enough, hours later, they call back. My assistant answers and takes the order and they use a brand-new Amex and boom, the eye-watering total goes through. I phone corporate, and they start working with the FBI.

Here’s how it went down:

Our delivery crew drove to the drop-off point, but first they stopped to load a half-dozen armed federal agents into the back of the truck. When they arrived, the woman taking delivery signed the bill of lading… and that was the signal. The FBI swarmed out of the truck and arrested her and four accomplices on the spot. No resistance, just pure shock on their faces.

A few weeks later, I got envelopes from Mastercard, Visa, and Amex, each one with a “thank you” reward check for recovering stolen cards.

There was a time when, if you called the number on the back of your major brand credit card, I might have been the one to answer.

One random day, I pick up a call. The second I start the two-step verification, I can hear the fight in this woman’s voice. She’s shuffling papers on her desk or kitchen table, and I just know she’s getting ready to give me h*** about something. She’s got the same tone my own mother uses when she’s about to let a customer service rep have it.

A quick account check tells me all I need to know: her last check payment arrived a few days late, which triggered a $35 late payment fee. That, in turn, pushed her over her credit limit, racking up another $35 over-limit fee.

Yup. That’s exactly where this is going. And honestly? I’m not in the mood to fight today.

The moment she finishes verification, I don’t even give her a chance to launch into it.

Me: “Since you’ve been such a good and loyal customer for us, I’m going to go ahead and waive both the over-limit fee and the late payment fee. Looks like the mail was just slow, so your payment got here a bit late. You may want to consider paying online or over the phone in the future; never know how long the mail will take these days. So… what can I do for you today?”

There’s this sudden pause, like I’ve yanked the rug right out from under her.

Customer: “Buh… but… why would you do that?”

Me: “Because I’m a nice guy, ma’am?”

Stunned silence.

Me: “Anything else I can do for you, ma’am?”

She never did recover her steam.

Customer: “I want to dispute a charge on my bill. My mom didn’t tell me she was going to charge the card, and she normally does.”

Me: “So, it’s fraud?”

Customer: “Oh, no, not that, but I wanna dispute the charge?”

Me: “Dispute it because it’s not correct?”

Customer: “No, ‘cause my mom didn’t ask me before she charged it.”

I didn’t feel like explaining to him that his card and what’s done with it are his responsibility, so I transferred him to disputes so they could break the bad news.

I work in collections for a credit card company. A customer has called in who has not paid their credit card bill in some time.

Customer: “But I’m in the restaurant now and they won’t accept my card.”

Me: “And that will continue to happen until you pay the minimum payment.”

Customer: “How much is that?”

Me: “£28.”

Customer: “I haven’t got £28! That’s why I’m using the credit card, dummy!”

Related:
Will Not Give Them Credit For Trying, Part 3
Will Not Give Them Credit For Trying, Part 2
Will Not Give Them Credit For Trying