American Airlines just called to verify that an airline ticket from Mexico City to Bolivia that someone was trying to purchase with my credit card was authorized. And with that, ladies and gentlemen, I am on my second replacement card in less than a year.
>shakes fist at Gods of Internet commerce<
You'd think that would be the worst part. However, it is not. The worst part is that whoever stole my card thinks I'm small potatoes, as is evidenced by the fact that the only other purchase made with the stolen card was at a One Stop in Bismarck, Arkansas, for a grand total of $3.63.
I guess my thief assumed I wouldn't notice an extraneous beef jerky purchase. (And, to be fair, I almost didn't.) And I could live with that had I not heard a tale from one of my friends who had his identity stolen. Apparently, his thief bought a Porsche Boxter -- something he discovered when he received the loan documents in the mail.
So now I just have a lot of misplaced anger for my thief. What -- I'm so un-fabulous that you don't even try to buy season tickets for the Lakers? Some haute couture? A share of a private jet? What about dinner at a nice restaurant? A few good bottles of wine? A botox touch-up? Nope. Just $3.63 worth of convenience store crap in Arkansas, no less. Is that all I'm good for? A roadside Red Bull?
Defrauded and deflated,
***Thanks for the link today, DC Blogs. I know you'd use my card for something fabulous.***