Last week I had a heated discussion with Kevin, my banker.
And by "my banker" I don't mean a personal account manager to juggle my bountious funds from one low risk mutual fund to another until the weather is nice enough to hit me up for a weekend at my home in the Hamptons. I mean "I called my local branch and this is the guy who picked up the phone and his name is Kevin".
I called Kevin for a chat when I tried to purchase a song from iTunes and got a message that my debit card would be expiring in a few days and mightent I want to update that all quick-like since they weren't about to give up the musical goods to someone who might not be solvent come March 1st.
"Kevin", says I, "since this is February 26th and my debit card expires Feb 2009, shouldn't I have already recieved a shiny new card?"
"You should have, yes. You haven't recieved one?" says the sage Kevin.
"No. I have not", sayeth me. And those of you who have personally heard me rant about pretty much anything should be aware of the restraint I was showing at this juncture. I'm sayin'.
"Have you checked the mail?" says Kevin, who just lost his chance to ever be my friend.
My TMJ is singing at this point from the teeth grinding. "Yes, I have checked the mail. Have you? Because I moved several months ago and changed my address."
"Oh, so are you still at 1234 Random Birdname Street, Louisville, Ky Zipcode here?"
"Wow, that's a new one. You have the street number of my new address, but the street name of my old one. I wonder where you sent my debit card?", I say, genuinely impressed that someone would go to all the trouble of changing HALF OF MY ADDRESS.
and this is where Kevin unwittingly endagers his own life...
"Well, did you notify us of your address change?"
I start to sweat. Actual beads of sweat are running down my face as I try desperately to be filled with the love of Christ and not get in my car and drive the 3/4 mile to Kevin's local branch and do something that would ensure that the both of us end up on the local news at 6.
"Kevin", I say, "if half of the address you currently have is correct, and the other half is my old address, chances are that this was a clerical mistake. If not, your data entry staff has some mad prognosticating skills."
"Oh. Good Point." he chuckles. Kevin might make it back on my Christmas card list.
"So, about that missing card...", I prompt.
Now, I'd love to tell you that it was all taken care of and my iTunes has been humming all week with the joys of new purchases. That is not the case. As with all banking related traumas there were steps and measures to take. Kevin ended up being very helpful, and quite a nice man to boot. Unfortunately, he couldn't have a new card on its way without killing the old one, which at that point had a few more days and a few more trips to kroger in her. That card ended its reign of terror on Monday, sadly, leaving me skint. All will be well soon since a shiny new card will magically appear at at least one of my homes (the new one? the old one? who knows at this point?)via certified mail, but until then i am a bit strapped.
So will someone please buy me the new Tony Lucca album?