Robbed
January 27, 2006
I just got a call from a Visa “fraud specialist” asking me about some recent transactions on my account. I had actually been feeling paranoid about that when yesterday I saw a “pending” charge for $229.95 that didn’t look familiar. Turns out that it didn’t look familiar because someone had been shopping on directv.com.
They also attempted to spend $2,000 at nordstrom.com, but the charge was declined because I, sad as it is to admit, don’t have $2,000 in my checking account. They spent $10 here, $50 there, running up enough little charges to eventually arouse suspicion in the people at Visa. That I’m grateful for.
So, now I’ve got no money in my account (while I make my way through the “dispute resolution process”), and no way to get it while I wait 3-5 days for a new Visa card to arrive.
I hope that motherfucker is enjoying his satellite TV system when the cops come bust his ass. And I hope they use a little brutality, too.
Update: Today, a $35 charge appeared from a fried chicken joint. How the hell do you use a stolen credit card number at a fast food place?
Fuck, man!
You are REALLY out of luck. Any ideia where the number leaked? Any recent purchases? You buy online a lot? Damn!
Well, it can only get better now, Thomas.
Best regards,
B.
Thanks, Bruno. Yep, it’s tough, but since the bank is eventually taking care of everything, it’s really just a major inconvenience, and nothing really serious in the big picture. Still, though, damn that’s annoying.
No idea how the number got out. I’ve been swiping that card in every crack I find over the past few weeks, I can’t even begin to remember all the places I paid with it during my trip to Alabama. That’s my best guess, unless a site I’ve ordered on, and yeah I do shop online a lot, was compromised.
Yeah, more and more fast food places accept credit as payment these days—what do they care if their customers get deeper in debt as they get fatter with the food they’re getting in debt over?
I remember when some shitbird broke into my Jeep and stole my radio. They were fairly nice about it, they didn’t break anything that would’ve cost a lot of money to fix (and I wanted a CD player anyway), but if I’d caught ‘em in the act—this was at Towson Town Center—I probably would’ve run him head first into one of those concrete support pillars. Then kicked him in the nuts. Repeatedly.
The most important question that we seem to be forgetting to ask…
How the hell does someone run up a $35 bill at a fried chicken shack?
Must have been a family reunion.