Thursday, September 10, 2009

I'm Mrs. Cellophane

One of the things guaranteed to make me cuss is having to deal with some company concerning bills or accounts and they refuse to talk to me, but will only talk to my husband or the person whose name is on the account. This made me mad 30 years ago when I asked American Express for a card with my name on it (although I had been using a card with Toby’s name) and was told that my husband would have to make that request. It made me mad several years ago when my dad was sick with cancer, could not hear or understand – especially on the phone - and I had to pretend to be him while dealing with hospitals, doctors, and insurance companies. It made me mad a week ago when I tried to pay a bill for Toby’s MRI they would not let me – it had to be the account holder. You would think I would be prepared and deal better with these people or maybe that I would get better at lying to them saying that I am Mr. Toby or be more understanding that they are just trying to protect our interests. But I hate it. It makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up every time. Our cell phone company is the worst. Toby has told them to sign me up on the account as being someone who could change the policy, but no, they continue to require Toby. I believe I once yelled, "You will take my checks, my signature, why won’t you talk to me?" They were unmoved. I once told the insurance company that I was not Mr. Toby, but that I would call back and tell the next operator that I was. So why don’t we save lots of time and effort and you just deal with me." They, too, were unmoved. I’m sure you don’t want to hear all my rants at such people – just know that I become a slobbering maniacal person capable of violence when this happens.

Today I had to call the credit card people about our account, "Please enter the last four digits of your Social Security number." Dang! I called Toby, but got his message machine. This is the message that I left. "Hi dear. I’m trying to deal with the credit card people, but I need the last four digit of your SS, your great-grandmother’s maiden name, and how many times you have peed in the last four months."

Toby returned my call with this, "I might can give you that information, but I need some ID."


AirmanMom said...


Buck said...

True story in this space: My ex-mother-in-law (now deceased, as is my FIL) had the same sort of issue with the local bank when she applied for a credit card. The bank wouldn't issue her one without her husband as a co-signer, no matter WHAT she said or did... it was "bank policy." So my father-in-law bought the bank. OK, it was a small local bank... not Bank of America or anything... but he DID buy it. And my mother-in-law got her credit card shortly thereafter.

Bag Blog said...

Buying the bank would have made me happy. Throwing a rock through their front window would work well too.

GUYK said...

"...might need some ID." BAWAHAHAHAHAHA I like the way Toby thinks.

The Friendly Neighborhood Piper said...

Classic TB...i can just see his smile as he says that.