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money Credit Where Credit Is Due
by denim
gfd messagesAIM
( on Feb 16, 2005 05:47:17 PM

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A true tale of corporate idiocy and 90 minutes of my life gone forever, wherein the hero learns once again that yes, he can survive elevated blood pressure.
IN the High and Far-Off Times, Visa, O Best Beloved, had an affiliation with Borders bookstore. Visa gave two percent of money spent at Borders back in the form of nice, crisp paper gift certificates, and one percent of money spent elsewhere. And LO! Our hero received plentiferous books, and it was good.

One fine morning in the Month of February, he closed one of his bank accounts, as he had moved on to another fine financial institution with better interest rates. The VERY NEXT MORNING, he realized that he needed to pay his credit card off online, having already discarded the Pre-Paid Envelope that Visa is so fond of giving to its children in debt...and he was filled with 'satiable curiousity as to how he might now accomplish this.

Now you must know and understand, O Best Beloved, that he had planned ahead, sending a voided check unto Visa, so that his new bank account might be registered with them, and all would be well. Nearly two weeks had passed since he had done this.

Elephant's Child...ermmm, our hero...went to the online website, which was wondrous and secure and filled with Reassuring Information and Special Offers. He entered his new bank account information...and the online website did spank him with its large, red font, saying THIS BANK ACCOUNT HAS NOT BEEN REGISTERED, and urged him moreover to contact Customer Service for details.

Then he went away, a little warm, but not at all astonished, and called customer service. And the Telephone Menu did greet him, and offer him Options, and one of the Options was to Pay By Phone, and he was much astonished and thoughtful, and did select it at once.

He went from menu to menu, and did enter his Banking Transit Number and also his Account Number... and the Telephone Menu spanked him with its stern, polite voice, saying THIS BANK ACCOUNT HAS NOT BEEN REGISTERED, and shoved him rudely in the general direction of a Cutomer Service Representative.

Then E...our hero explained to Customer Service Representative what had happened, and Customer Service Representative said, with a mournful cry, 'Let me put you on hold while I investigate this.' And the Phone System did spank him with its cold, cold circuits, and left him, shaking, in Limbo.

FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER, he gave up and called back...after carefully skirting the Phone System, he spoke to Chirpy Customer Service Representative, and explained what had happened. She told him that indeed, his bank account HAD been registered, but that if she entered the information that it would awaken the dreaded Fifteen Dollar Service Fee, which would savage him (and probably spank him, given the history here...) - before he could gather his thoughts to protest, she forwarded him to the dreaded Telephone Menu once again.

Because of his 'satiable curiousity, he tried entering again his Transit Number and Account Number, and once again the Telephone Menu rewarded him with a spanking.

He called Customer Service again, and again was answered, this time by Overly Professional Customer Service Representative.

''Scuse me,' said the Elephant's Child most politely, 'but have you seen such a thing as ANY WAY TO GIVE YOU MY GODDAMNED MONEY in these promiscuous parts?'

Then the Overly Professional Customer Service Representative uncoiled himself from the telephone headset and spanked him with his scalesome, flailsome tail, saying "YOU MUST WAIT 72 HOURS AFTER YOUR ACCOUNT IS REGISTERED, AND IT HAS BEEN ONLY 71."

And so he said unto the Representative 'I would like to speak with your Manager, good sir!'

And the Representative put him on hold for a moment, and didst return quickly, saying 'The hold time for a Manager exceeds five minutes, which is more than I am permitted to wait' and did spank him again, and tell him to either call back at a less busy time, or that his Manager could call him back at the Manager's convenience, in a week or so. (Yes, O Best Beloved, I am not shitting you.)

And Elephant's Child didst surf on over to, and fill out a credit card application.

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