Dear A-hole Who Stole My Identity,
Thanks a lot!
Yes, I’m being sarcastic. And I continue to be when I say that I hope you’ve enjoyed your shopping sprees at Sears, Kohls, BestBuy, Pier One, JC Penney, and whatever stupid big box store was next to issue you a line of credit in my name. I’m sure I’ll find out in tomorrow’s mail. They just keep on coming. To quote the unintentionally apt letter attached to today’s Pier One card: “YOU GOT IT. NOW GET READY FOR MORE.”
I especially hope you have a great time with the Applebee’s cash card you purchased with the Kohl’s credit card. Just kidding, I don’t really hope you have fun. I hope you find the atmosphere to be way less convivial than it looks on TV, and that you order a disappointingly dry Zesty Roma Chicken and Shrimp “Under 500 Calories” meal, and that it actually contains 2500 calories, which sabotages the diet you think you’re on –and should be on, because you find yourself wheezing and your thighs chafing when you run through the Middletown, NY mall from store to store to screw up my credit.
Hey, you’re in luck. My friend tells me that Kohl’s sells pants that are generously cut for someone with a big can.
You know what’s great, though? (Besides the fact that all the credit cards are stuck to the letters with that rubbery glue strip that’s fun to peel off and play with.) I’m not responsible for any of the charges. The only thing I’ve lost so far is time, and who needs more time? There’s always more where that came from, because we’re all going to live forever. Some people like to live every day like it’s their last; I prefer to live each day like it’s the last opportunity to talk to credit fraud departments on the phone.
OK, in earnest, Identity Thief, in case you’re confused by my ironic tone: I resent anything that wastes my time in a way I wouldn’t choose to waste it. The hours I spent in the last few days reciting my social security number, address, and 16-digit numbers of accounts I didn’t authorize, I could’ve enjoyed watching Bravo shows I don’t like that much, like Rachel Zoe. So fuck you.
Do you know that, thanks to your shenanigans, I spent a beautiful Saturday afternoon in the police station? Instead of hanging out at home feeling guilty for not being outside, wasting the day on my terms, I sat for 2.5 hours under a water-stained drop ceiling, smiling at every cop who walked by and hoping he’d ask, “can I help expedite your paperwork?”
Some interesting folk came through while I was sitting there. Maybe they’re friends of yours?
One said, “I was arrested last night. I’m here to get my possessions.” While he waited over an hour for what turned out to be just a stainless steel water bottle, he kept laughing to himself, dropping his prepaid cell phone, and staring at me through sunglasses that lit up on the corners when he pressed a switch.
Your other pal, a woman, came in with a walking stick and many plastic grocery bags. Her sweatpants ended a good four inches above her ankles, one of which was wrapped uselessly in a loose Ace bandage. She smelled like medicine and unwashed person. (Maybe you could give her that Someday by Justin Bieber fragrance gift set you put on my tab at Sears.)
She went up to the window, removed her baseball cap to reveal a mullet with lots of bald patches, and announced, “I’m back.” I heard the administrator behind the plexiglass sigh while this woman ranted: “Well, I’m back once again, to report that my landlord is still threatening to throw my mother’s wheelchair in the garbage. This is aggravated assault, and if it continues, someone’s going to be hurt in a fistfight, most likely him.”
I hope you meet awesome people like this when you’re in jail for stealing my identity and wasting my time. And you will be, if the detective I spoke with has his way. He said this is the case of a lifetime, and he won’t rest till he gets to the bottom of it.
No, he didn’t really.
He said, “Oh yeah, there’s a lot of this going around. Don’t be surprised if you get a card for Children’s Place and Victoria’s Secret.”
So, dear Identity Thief, better sleep with one eye open — on your Happy Chic By Jonathan Adler for JC Penneys bedding that’s really not bad. Enjoy.
ps – this’ll make you laugh.
It took me a full hour on the phone with a mumbling representative to get immediate access to my credit report. Every question he asked to verify my identity stumped me, and required me to rummage through all kinds of papers in my file drawer. Meanwhile, it was clearly a snap for you to open all those credit cards in my name. I bet the toughest question they asked was, “How many shopping bags would you like?” What’s your secret?