The phone call came at 6:10. In the morning.
I know there are people who are awake and have
begun their day by 6:00 a.m., but I am not one of them. I especially didn’t
like hearing the voice that was on the other end of the receiver last Friday.
“This is the fraud department at Barclay’s
Bank Mastercard. Is this Marcia O’Brien?” Oh, rats. Victimized? Again? And is
it really the fraud department? I was waking up faster than I wanted. My red
flags began flapping.
“Yes, this is she.” I mumbled,
trying to come to. It was one of those sleepless nights and I had hoped to
snuggle in until an 8 o’clock wakeup.
The fraud specialist on the other
end of the phone was the real deal. My card had been compromised the night
before for the paltry sum of $15.95. I don’t know what triggered the alert, but
I was glad the bank was on top of it.
What I hate about this annoying
scene – which has happened to me a half dozen times – is having to redo the
information everywhere the card is on file. I guess it’s a small price to pay
for security. I’m an experienced victim.
The first time I had to clean up
after a credit theft was a little different. Decades ago, it actually involved
the physical cards. I was seated at a New York City lunch counter, inhaling a
sandwich, fending off the midday nausea of pregnancy. Because there was no room
between the expanded me and the counter, I had no lap to hold my purse. I
plunked it on the footrest between my feet – sort of a double-ankle vise.
Mid-sandwich, I felt something touch my
leg and looked down to see a teenage boy reaching between those ankles and
grabbing my purse. He ran out the door and headed up Madison Avenue. My
instinct was to chase him, but he had a head start. I couldn’t run out of the
restaurant because I owed for my lunch, plus how fast was I going to run after
the kid in my bulbous condition? Fuggedaboudit. The restaurant owner called the
police for me.
The two detectives (!) came to my office
across the street that afternoon. I had lost my favorite purse, containing that
month’s paycheck, my passport, monthly commuter train pass, makeup and wallet.
The wallet contained my driver’s license, social security card, and 22 charge
cards. Today’s Mastercard and Visa replace all those individual cards we used
to carry like Sears, Bloomingdale’s, Shell Gasoline, etc.
Two days later, New York’s finest were
back with my empty purse. It was found in a hotel restroom. The kid left my
makeup bag and my wallet containing only my Turtle Club membership card. I had
already called the 22 companies, the license bureau, my employer’s payroll
office, and the passport bureau. American Airlines, my employer, paid the
emergency replacement passport fee because I was headed to Toronto the
following day on business.
That traumatic experience led to my
carrying only the cards I might likely use on any given day. When Visa and
Mastercard arrived, life became much simpler.
About 15 years ago, I made a rookie
mistake. My best friend had driven us into Manhattan for a theater matinee.
After the performance, I intended to pay for her parking. The city garages are
so expensive that charge cards are necessary. I gave my American Express card
to the attendant who took it to the window for processing while we chatted. I
should have taken it myself.
Back home from the weekend whirlwind, I
crashed, exhausted, hoping to sleep in. American Express had other plans. They
called before 6:00 a.m. After verifying that I was me, the fraudmeister asked,
“Have you purchased any international airline tickets or computers in the past
two days?” Stunned, I told her I hadn’t. “We have eighty-nine hundred dollars
in charges, including two tickets to Valparaiso, Chile and two to Madrid. Two
computers with many accessories, and one piece of jewelry for $1200 dollars. Are
any of these your purchases?” Nope.
That conversation was literally a wake-up
call. Thankfully American Express took care of everything by not putting the
charges through. It intrigues me that they know my buying habits so well. And
they also knew I wasn’t in New Jersey, where the charges originated. The fraud
agent said that all the purchases were made during one hour from the same Hoboken
computer.
Beginning 20 years ago in Europe, sales
people and waiters brought the machine to you – not the other way around. Your
card never leaves your hand as mine had in that garage. As much technology
upgrading as we have done in the U.S., most restaurants still take your card
away to process.
Protecting that little plastic rectangle
is always at the top of my paranoid list when I travel. The thought of losing
it makes my blood run cold. Almost as chilling as having the phone ring at six
in the morning. Again.