Jan. 11th, 2002

raybear: (it's dot!!)
I've had this ongoing problem with Telecheck since last fall, involving a forged check at a grocery store. Someone acquired or faked some "convenience checks" associated with one of my credit cards, and wrote a check at Treasure Island grocery store for approximately $63. I found out about this through unknown charges on my monthly statement -- actually the check got bounced because at that time my credit card was nearly maxed out. I reported this to my credit card, was credited for the charges, had my account cancelled and a new card issue.

Three months later Telecheck starts sending my threatening letters for the money. They have my name wrong and the address wrong (because I had just moved). I called the forgery department who said I needed to send a police report. I told them there was no police report because I had nothing to report. The GROCERY STORE should have filed a police report since they got swindled. But whatever. Anyway, I've sent and faxed numerous letters to Telecheck. I've made a couple phone calls to them. I've also spent lots of time with the "security Department" of my credit card. Apparantly they've never had to deal with this situation before, because the GROCERY STORE was supposed to go to the police, not report the matter to Telecheck.

I thought the matter had been settled since I heard nothing since sending a follow-up letter at the end of November. But last Friday I got a "settlement offer". If I called them right away, they would take 25% of what I owed, i.e. they would waive the 25 dollar check return fee. I called them distraught on Friday evening at 5:37 pm. The woman was supremely unhelpful, because the forgery department was closed. I wasn't too hard on her, and even apologized before I hung up for my frustration and acknowledged that it wasn't her fault and thanked her for doing what she could. Which was nothing.

I put off calling them back during business hours, because the last time I called the Forgery Department the guy was an ass and acted like I was an idiot for asking such questions as "what exact documentation do you need to prove I'm not liable for the forgery?"

But today, I spoke with Shametray. And she said they hadn't received anything for my file, but then told me to just re-fax it directly to her attention and she'll take care of it. She was cool (in tone, not a reference to her status), business-like and matter-of-fact. Previous folks I've called acted rather condescending, like it was below them to talk to people who bounce checks (even though I actually hadn't in this case, I certainly have before). She couldn't have cared less. And most of all, she hooked me up directly with little hassle. Now, I may be shooting myself in the foot because I could get another notice from Telecheck in three months, but I'm going to go ahead and say it.

Bless you, Shametray. Telecheck doesn't deserve you.

p.s. )

Viva Hate.

Jan. 11th, 2002 04:45 pm
raybear: (coldmiser)
I'm listening to a mixtape at work that has songs by Morrissey and The Cure and I'm remembering being in the passenger seat of blue 1983 Honda Accord. The backseat is memories of late childhood, when it was my mom's car and often "the family car". For some reason I actually don't have as many vivid memories of this, whereas I have several specific moments from the orange-brown Oldsmobile era of the family car, which pre-dates the Accord. Strange.

But anyway, in the late 80's, my mom acquired a Buick (our last American car ever purchased) and my brother inherited the Honda. Hearing these songs makes me think of summers and christmases. We weren't particularly close in age or emotionally, and most of the times I rode with him were after summer youth group or around the holidays when he was home from college. Most of these car rides were silent, except for the air from the open windows and the music blaring. The Cure, U2, R.E.M., The Smiths, Indigo Girls, Driving-N-Crying. My brother had pretty good taste and was an early influence.
Read more... )
raybear: (...and that's Miss Barbra Streisand)
For those who just tuned in, the userpic you see associated with this entry is not me. It's of Steve Stark. I am Steve Stark in theory. But I'm not the original Steve Stark. The picture is not of the original Steve Stark. The userpic is of the actor Michael Hitchcock who plays the pharmacist named Steve Stark in Waiting for Guffman. He actually named his character after a real Steve Stark who was a high school friend. I don't know that Steve Stark. All I know is that this picture is a film still from the exact moment when he says "And there's only one other person who can do that, and that's Miss Barbra Streisand!" I don't generally look like Michael Hitchcock, but in that moment, I sometimes look like him when I get all geeked and bugged out. I also love Barbra Streisand. Which is rare among people under the age of 30, even in gay men. But unlike most fag fans, I don't feel especially compelled to defend her. I love her too much to even have to put forth an effort in explaining her to others -- nothing can detract me. It's an ancient love that pre-dates most memories. I can't explain it either. But it's not like I go home everyday and listen to "Back to Broadway" and watch Nuts. It's more of a background constant that needs no nourishment and an occasional guilty pleasure. But anyway, I just wanted to clarify that picture. For those who haven't seen me in person.

It's barely 11 pm and I feel like it's the middle of the night because I'm so tired. I had a successful time at the volunteer party, and I actually got a little bit reinspired by my workplace. One of the attorneys told this story that almost made me get teary-eyed, and I even knew how the story was going to end. It's also a testament to her great skills as a storyteller. But anyway, yeah, I need to get re-energized some and stick with things a bit more. Financially speaking, I'm not ready to break free. I sometimes get the impression they know I'm considering leaving, and they're trying to hold on to me and woo me back. But maybe not.

I got an e-mail with an offer for a small DJ gig next Saturday night. Well, it's a big event, but a small slot (an hour). I think I might take it. Especially if it pays. Maybe even if it doesn't, since I was thinking of going to the event anyway to see the Kings perform. So if I get free admission, a chance to show my skills and pass my card, as well as the addition to the resume, it's probably worth the hour of my time and carrying my bag to the event. Besides, those lesbians need some good dance music. Perhaps that's my mission in life -- to bring great dance music to dykes.

MelRo is already asleep and I will now join her.

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