The Curse Of The Irish (Name)

I work in the credit customer service department for a regional department store in the northeastern USA. If someone calls and doesn’t have their card number, we can still look it up a few different ways, starting with the first four letters of their last name and the first five digits of their mailing address. 

One day, I am supposed to meet my father for dinner after work. Twenty minutes before the end of my shift, I get such a call. I ask for her name, which is not an uncommon Irish name, particularly in the Boston area. I ask for her address, and she tells me that when she opened the account she was living at a hotel and didn’t have a numerical address. So, I start checking every account with her last name and first initial. There’s a lot, and she’s getting angry at me for not chatting while I search. 

When I hit the seven-hundred mark, she says, “Wait, it might be under my husband’s name, [Name with a different last name initial].”

I start over again, searching every account with her last name. 

When I get to eleven hundred, she asks, “Would it help if I went to get the card?”  

Clenching my fist in rage, I say, “Yes, that would be very helpful, thank you.”