About sixteen years ago, I met him for the first time. My trainwreck sibling brought home this adorable puppy he had no business adopting because he had not one thing in his life that wasn’t a mess. I was furious at my sibling – he didn’t even take care of himself, how could he drag
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October 31, 2007
BoyDucky recently caught an erroneous charge to his debit card when he was preparing to pay bills to the tune of $450.
Luckily, BofA is willing to give him a temporary credit because he caught the charge the morning it showed up on his statement, but the onus is on him to disprove the charges, and to prove that the charge was made without his authorization.
If he doesn’t jump through their hoops, however, (returning the affadavit with the correct boxes checked off, the name of the possible perpetrator, etc., within 5 days of receipt; returning a copy of the police report within 7 days of reporting the incident) they’re going to take that temporary credit right back.
On top of being at an out of town hospital with his father 4 of 7 days of the week, he’s had to:
1. Contact the business where he believes the credit card number was stolen by an employee (because that’s the only time the card has ever been out of his sight);
2. Try to get the employee’s first and last names, which means explaining the whole situation to the various Supercuts managers;
3. Wait for the manager and corporate offices and police to review their store tapes. They found that it does look like the employee copied something down onto a Post-It and put it in his pocket;
4. Talk to the police and schedule an appointment to meet as soon as he’s back in town.
5. See if they can track down the charge and if it can be connected to that scuzzy guy who had his mitts on BoyDucky’s card.
I’ve warned him countless times of perils of using debit cards in fraud situations and he’s always shrugged it off. Believe me, I know the pain of dealing with false charges and credit cards are the way to go. If he hadn’t caught the charge immediately, BofA wouldn’t have given him a credit and he’d be out $450 for however long it takes to resolve the situation.
The most work I’ve ever had to do for false charges, like an extra “tip” a restaurant gave itself, was to report it as fraudulent to the credit card company. They immediately sent me verification paperwork to swear on someone’s grave that I did not, and no authorized users, authorized the charge, and then the company had to prove that they were allowed to charge my card. In one case, I had a copy of the receipt with my signature and written tip; in another, I never charged anything to that company so they had to prove that I did. I was never out any money, and the credit card company settled the problems painlessly.
Of course, my fraud problems were directly associated with a business and were obviously due to an employee stupidly trying to line his or her pocket for a whole dollar or so.
We’ll have to hope that the employee conveniently tried to pay on his account or something directly linked to him like that because if not, there’s no way that employee can be sacked based only on suspicion of stealing the card number.
Payday is no longer fun. Yep, that’s right, I said it. It’s not! My darned check is so tiny now that I can’t do anything but throw it into the Expenses fund. My transportation reimbursement goes into my auto insurance savings, and that’s the end of the story for another two weeks. *sigh* There are a lot of boring two-weekses in my future until the end of the year. Bringing home less than half of what I was making a couple months ago is NO thriller.
It’s all down to the bonus, really. It was a big chunk of cash that went directly into my Save-For-Taxes, Expenses and Savings accounts. That meant that not only did I not pay taxes on it yet (and will have to later), no retirement monies were deducted! My retirement funds aren’t having any of that neglect, so the paychecks are responsible for making up the shortfall. It’s sensible. I know it is. It’s just B-O-R-I-N-G!
In other news, I received a bill for $15 from Wamu Investments. *smack* goes my palm to my forehead. EVERY stinkin’ year I forget to roll over the IRA from my first long-term job to Vanguard where I will pay NO annual fees. *sigh* And every year I get this bill that reminds me that once again, I’ve been a fool by waiting too long to shift from Washington Mutual to Vanguard. Why not put all my eggs in one basket, hm? One small no-annual fee basket.
Even when I think there’s nothing to do, like a kid on summer vacation, there’s still something to do. My 4th Quarter resolution: Pick a fund in which to dump this small Rollover on the 2nd of the year. Because if I’m going to pay them $15 for the year anyway, they’re going to take care of the fund until the end of 2007! Or should I do that before the end of 2007 to avoid even a nominal 2008 fee?
October 29, 2007
that I owe FB is here!
Names will be obscured for the sake of preserving my anonymity š
I’ve been friends with BoyDucky’s sister, let’s call her One, since 7th grade. She was quite a few years younger than her brothers, so we knew them by name, reputation, and portraits hanging on the family staircase. Those of us girls who were closer to One in our younger years knew the brothers personally, but I only knew them from the hilarious/sweet stories she’d tell about her ridiculously cool brothers. And in passing, when I had dinner with her family and he was in town, he’d invariably help remind her parents that I didn’t speak Chinese when they’d start talking to me in Chinese. But other than that, BoyDucky was just One’s brother, or another Boy.
Three years ago, I started a new job at a university, the sun was setting on my relationship at the time, and I was rather wishing that I’d landed this job when I still had friends at the Uni. I had no idea that One’s brother was completing a Master’s degree on campus at the time, nor that she’d passed the word to him that I was now working there. Nice guy that he was, he offered to take me to lunch to introduce me to the campus, and we started lunching every once in a while. Lunches became longer and more frequent as we talked about everything under the sun. My proof that he had no ulterior motives in taking me to lunch was that he’d do the same for any friend of his sister’s, and he can’t remember what I was wearing the day of our first lunch. He remembers what I wore to just about everything else after he started to like-like me. š
Eventually I developed a well-hidden crush on Boy even as I realized that my 4 year relationship was truly lifeless and that I was guaranteed a good day NOT seeing the Ex. I’d given the Ex so many second chances over the years that it led to a Christmas ultimatum in which I laid out my major concerns (not the first time) and asked if he saw any resolutions forthcoming, if he wanted things to change, and if he thought the relationship was worth the effort. He said no, no and no, and we ended our relationship.
Lo and behold, Boy guiltily confessed to having feelings for me some weeks later and, though shocked, I had to similarly confess. We agreed to a trial date on which he wooed me with proper flowers and a lovely dinner, and we’ve been lucky enough to have a relatively drama-free, loving relationship ever since. He’s wonderfully supportive and understanding, even to the point of accepting my boy hair š and appreciates all the efforts I make to take care of him. I, in turn, adore him. I also loved, but stopped, the monthly flowers that he’d bring me for our monthiversaries, and the gestures of homebaked goodies and lunches he’d bring to my office. I like to think my contributions of staying with him but entertaining myself while he studied was an equally valuable gesture. Neither of us are perfect, but we compliment each other’s strengths and weaknesses pretty well. He’s learned to sense my guilt complex a mile away and soothe it from 500 hundred miles away, while I have the right to smother his temper boiling over as I see fit, or bring sanity back to his schedule and life organization. Of course, he’s never experienced the vaunted MiniDucky temper so, until then, the pot shall continue to call the kettle black.
Happily, One got over her weirdness about the relationship several months later, and even let me know that she’s glad we’re together because I make him happy and keep him even-keeled. Now, why can’t other people see it that way? š
And that’s the story of how one Boy became BoyDucky.
What a weekend! I’m working from home today because I had a doctor’s appointment, and I’m sure my desk will be a delight to return to.
Saturday should have been much more productive than it really was: I just picked up BoyDucky from the airport, had breakfast, ran a couple errands and got my hair cut. Speaking of, I should have known I was in trouble when the student and stylist instructor both asked “You mean, like Victoria Beckham?” Uhrm, no. So my hair’s pretty well lopped off, and I feel like I look like a boy. It’s ok, (insert *gag* here) BoyDucky says he still loves me. š
Total Spend: $14
My run to Michael’s for a package of blank card stock/envelopes for bridal shower invitations was postponed until Sunday because I needed a coupon, yay for 40% off coupons, and then we spent the day at the hospital with BoyDucky’s dad. Lunch (Chipotle burrito) and dinner (Thai food) were his treat.
Total Spend: Original, $15. After coupon, $10.
Monday: I’m going to try to go through Physical Therapy to get a chiropractic referral. This neck problem has been around far too long, so I hope that a chiro will do the trick. Other than that, I just had to pick up a refill on medications, get stuck with needles for more labwork, and stop at Victoria’s Secret to combine a merch credit with my gift card.
Total Spend: $25
+ $10.76 credit.
Also, had it out with my brother about how he needs to get his act together, and not return cars running on empty. He swears that he’s through making empty promises, so he’s going to try to make it back to me with funds in two and four weeks. We’ll see. Things aren’t as dire as I make them out to be, but they will be, and I shouldn’t have to make more sacrifices of my own to fix his shortcomings.
My puppydog is being dramatic, stretched out by my foot in hopes that I’ll pet her, panting and verrrry quietly whining. She’s desperate for my attention so I’ll let her stay here while I try to work. It’d be easier without a dog’s snout under my foot, nudging every few seconds that I forgot to “pet” her, though!
October 26, 2007
the more circumstances force me to wish I COULD.
We were already sharing two cars between three of us: Pa&Ma, me, while my brother was gallivanting off in his own car that he hasn’t paid for in the last 4 months. Then, my idiotic brother comes home with totally thrashed brakes and finds out that it’ll cost $600 to fix them. Never mind the fact that, according to our agreement, he no longer has the right to be making any auto-related demands, he wants Pa to call up our mechanic family friend on a Tuesday to make him fix the car.
Right. Because we are all here to serve his needs when and if he decides to exercise his privileges. As if our friend doesn’t have a job and a family and other responsibilities. Idiot. So now, we’ve got one car between the three of us because the sedan can’t be driven until the brakes are fixed, and my idiot brother is taking the truck for unknown periods of time, without considering the needs of the THREE people at home who only have one car between them.
This normally wouldn’t annoy me so very much. Weekends I just try to stay home and not need a car, or I take the train during the week, but this weekend, I need a car to go pick up BoyDucky, finally spend a little time together over breakfast and get a haircut. And Monday I need a car to go to my doctor’s appointment. But I can’t assume my own car will be available all because of one enormously entitled, poorly trained, selfish family member. Just one. That’s all it takes.
I know we’ll make do. We always find a way. It’s just aggravating that we always have to.
For those of you who don’t already know this, I hate speaking in front of crowds. (And three is definitely a crowd.) I avoid it even more assiduously than I would the plague or getting my sandal caught in the back wheel of a racing motorcycle. In fact, if you gave me the choice between speaking in front of a lot of people, or hanging out in an enclosed area with a possibly rabid critter, the odds are great that I’d choose the rabid critter. Unless it was a snake. But they can’t have rabies, so that’s beside the point. I’m rambling because even the thought of public speaking makes me nervous.
The point is, I hate hate hate public speaking. And that brings me to what I’ve agreed to do two Saturdays hence. CoworkerFriend called to tell me that he was offered a position as a proctor for the SATs and knew of another slot open, if I were interested. Ever since I lost the overtime privilege at work, paychecks have been about a quarter of their usual value. An extra hundred bucks, give or take, didn’t sound so bad, until I realized that it entails speaking. Speaking in front of adolescents. A lot of them.
Yes, I’m just to read instructions, check a timer and write on the board, but it still requires being at the front of a classroom and “orating” to a bunch of kids. Like back in high school. You know, where I really LOVED that kind of attention being paid me.
Argh! There so many other things, anonymous computery things, that I’d much rather do using much more effort and much less talking out loud to people I don’t know.
Why am I so nervous? Heckling? Kids not listening? Tripping over my own words? I do that sometimes, on the phone. I’ll get some mangled version of my name out and hope the other person doesn’t notice. It’s still pretty embarrassing, though. I suppose I wouldn’t care about any heckling, I could theoretically just kick the kid out. Honestly, with some of my friends, heckling should be par for the course. I just get the shivers thinking about all those eyes, staring at me. Yuck yuck yuck! And no, I can’t just imagine they’re all in their underwear, they’re underage so that’s even more wrong than usual. *igh*
Well, I’ve been all wrought up about how I’m still awful at toasts, and that’s just in front of a small group of people I see everyday. I obviously need to break this phobia somehow, what better way than to do it in front of a group of kids I’ll never see again? And it’s not like I’ve got to do anything original, I just have to read off a booklet. *breathe* I can do this. Really. I can. Maybe this will be the beginning of the end of my phobia? Wish me luck!
October 25, 2007
SavingDiva reminded me that I’ve been hoarding points, and so I thought I’d check on a few of my points pots like the 5100 AMEX Membership Rewards points, and the Hilton HHonors points.
My Hilton HHonors card has been giving me 5 points per dollar spent on cell phone bills and restaurants for about 3 or 4 years now, and I’ve accumulated nearly 50,000 points. Hilton phased out their airline ticket redemption and points-to-miles transfer programs sometime last year, so the only options that I’d consider are hotel stays, and possibly gift cards.
With Christmas coming up and a history of never actually staying at a Hilton Hotel for leisure, it seemed like a good idea to check out the gift card options.
Would you believe that they offer $100 gift cards for 50,000 points?? That’s ridiculous! If I just save those points up for a couple-few days’ hotel stays, I’m pretty sure it’ll be worth more than a single $100 gift card. So much for that.
As for the AMEX points, I don’t plan to use the AMEX card much … or at all, really, so I’m going to cash out those points. I was on the fence about what to get, but the conversation over at Gilded Butterfly’s motivated me to think of a gift card that would do double duty as funding for stuff I need and as funding for Christmas gifts. Too bad I can’t redeem it for Amazon.com or Target!
I can do Linens ‘n’ Things, Barnes & Noble (completely not a necessity), or Banana Republic. Everything else is too frivolously high-end, like Bloomingdale’s, Talbots, L’Occitane, and Brooks Brothers.
