I must take time out from the very real drama of the Winter Games to tell you yet another, far more minor, drama has been playing out in my life. It’s the drama of my credit card, which began weeks ago, and ended only yesterday. It is not to be believed, but it really happened, exactly as follows:
Feb 1st: I lose my Visa. Don’t know how, don’t know where, but it’s gone. I am leaving for London in 5 days, so I call Visa, cancel the card, and they assure me they will courier me a new card in time for my departure, and to expect it on Wednesday. Okey Dokey. We’re golden.
Feb 3rd: I stay home all day waiting for the courier, to no avail. I call Visa back. They say although they have canceled my card, there’s no record of a new one being sent out. They offer to courier me another one, but since I do not want to stay home for another day, they will send it to the nearest bank branch, where I can pick it up. It will be there tomorrow. It will be okay. S***t happens. We’ll work it out.
Feb 4th: I check with the bank branch repeatedly, but the card has not arrived. I call Visa again. They put me through to Visa International. Visa International assures me that they can send me an emergency card to my hotel in London, because God forbid I should be without credit in London. They say it will be there Monday morning. I am a little concerned, but optimistic.
Feb. 6th: I arrive in London, and receive a call from Visa International, saying the card won’t be there until Tuesday. Okey Dokey. I DO have an American Express card, but contrary to popular belief, it is NOT accepted everywhere. I will try to manage. After all, there are destitute people out there who have no credit cards AT ALL.
Feb. 8th: The card has not arrived. The hotel concierge shrugs. I call my pals Visa International. They apologize, and suggest I call UPS. It’s evening and UPS is closed. I develop a twitch.
Feb. 9th: I call UPS. They tell me the card in transit. That’s all they know. The twitch worsens.
Feb. 10th: I get a call from Visa International, asking me how things are going. I suggest that they may want to have sex with themselves. They apologize, and suggest, seeing that I am leaving in 2 days, that they cancel the card. That never arrived. I say sure. I am beyond bitter.
Feb. 11th: I receive a message from the Toronto bank branch (remember them?) saying my card has arrived. A week after it was sent out. Fabulous. I can barely contain my joy.
Feb. 13th: I return to Toronto. The next two days are holidays and the bank is closed. I try yoga and deep breathing.
Feb 17th: I go to the branch to pick up the card. Wait in long line to get it. Call Visa to activate it, but am told that the card … has been canceled.
I freak out.
Visa offers to courier me a new one. I offer to carve THEM a new one. We agree on their offer.
Feb. 19th: I have been home for 2 days waiting for courier. I leave the house for one hour to buy much needed water and food, and return, only to find that Purolator has come and gone, leaving a notice as to where I can pick my parcel up. I don’t have time, as I am going out of town. To a facility for the about-to-be criminally insane.
Feb. 22nd: I go to the Purolator office nearest my house. They do not have my credit card. It has been sent to another Purolator office. Farther away. Of course it has. I am strangely calm, but the children are frightened.
Feb. 23rd: I venture out to the far flung Purolator office, wait in line, show my I.D., and retrieve my card. I call VISA and activate it, making a note of my new PIN, and tuck the card in my wallet. The ordeal, it would seem, is over. I am free to charge again. But it will never be the same again. Because I have simply … lost … interest.