Also? I'm not alone.
Showing posts with label oy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label oy. Show all posts
23 June 2008
17 June 2008
My bank is trying to protect me
Trying too hard. And, like my mother, I'm not sure what they're so afraid of.
So, you might have noticed I am trying to get a place in New York. I'm at Kinko's, filling out all the paper work before faxing it to my broker on Sunday night. When, I get to the section asking for checking and savings account info. Oops. I'm notorious for not knowing my checking account number. Also, the application needs my bank's address.
My bank is Wells Fargo ... the largest gobbler of banks west of the Mississippi. I don't exactly have their street address ... for any of their divisions. I swear I have sent checks to about four different states to pay various arms of Wells Fargo in the eight years we've been together.
So, I call customer service from the fax machine.
I give them my name, address and check card number.
"Sir, I can't give out account numbers over the phone."
So, let me get this straight. Whoever I might be, I have a check card number. Can't you do more damage with someone's check card number than with someone's checking account number? What - exactly - in this instance, is this policy protecting someone from? In any event, isn't the damage level about the same? I mean, end result, someone can drain the bank account.
So, then, I ask the guy if he can give me the Wells Fargo address for account verification.
"11203 ..."
"Wow," I think to myself. "That's how my address starts off ... Wait. This bozo is giving me my own address."
So, they won't give out redundant ways to cause harm. But they will give out your PHYSICAL ADDRESS TO ANYONE WITH YOUR CHECK CARD. Brilliant. Utterly brilliant. I'm soooooo protected. From everyone except serial killers and thieves.
Eventually, the guy says he guesses the best address would be the branch I opened my account at all those years ago. Fine.
So, in order to find my account numbers, I log on to wellsfargo.com from one of Kinko's blatantly, glaringly unsecure computers and download the pdf of my bank statement so as to procure my account numbers.
Yeah. That felt real fucking safe. Thanks, Wells Fargo. Law of Unintended Consequences and shit.
Then I left said Kinko's with my check card still in the fax machine. Oops. This is what happens, Wells Fargo, when you don't just give me the freaking account numbers. I muster up all my concentration to smite you and end up unsecuring myself more than if you had just done it for me.
So, this morning, I needed to get some cash into a certain someone's account so she can write checks to get me in my apartment. I wheel up to my neighborhood Wells Fargo to get a certified check. It is 8:30. The Lobby opens at 9. The drive thru has been open since 7:30. I pull up and ask for a cashier's check.
"We can only do those in the Lobby."
"Well, hell." I drive off. Wait. Surely they won't just hand me $550 in cash through the Drive Thru, will they? I take a lap.
"So, if I can't get a cashier's check, will cash post immediately in her account?"
"Yes."
"And I can get $550 right now?"
"Yes."
"Do it."
Lose the certified check? Only a certain someone can do anything with it. Lose eleven $20 bills? Anyone can do anything with it. Maybe even get a half a tank of gas out of it. So, basically, I'm being protected from a more secure transaction by this policy of yours, Wells Fargo. That seems well thought out.
Just wow.
So, you might have noticed I am trying to get a place in New York. I'm at Kinko's, filling out all the paper work before faxing it to my broker on Sunday night. When, I get to the section asking for checking and savings account info. Oops. I'm notorious for not knowing my checking account number. Also, the application needs my bank's address.
My bank is Wells Fargo ... the largest gobbler of banks west of the Mississippi. I don't exactly have their street address ... for any of their divisions. I swear I have sent checks to about four different states to pay various arms of Wells Fargo in the eight years we've been together.
So, I call customer service from the fax machine.
I give them my name, address and check card number.
"Sir, I can't give out account numbers over the phone."
So, let me get this straight. Whoever I might be, I have a check card number. Can't you do more damage with someone's check card number than with someone's checking account number? What - exactly - in this instance, is this policy protecting someone from? In any event, isn't the damage level about the same? I mean, end result, someone can drain the bank account.
So, then, I ask the guy if he can give me the Wells Fargo address for account verification.
"11203 ..."
"Wow," I think to myself. "That's how my address starts off ... Wait. This bozo is giving me my own address."
So, they won't give out redundant ways to cause harm. But they will give out your PHYSICAL ADDRESS TO ANYONE WITH YOUR CHECK CARD. Brilliant. Utterly brilliant. I'm soooooo protected. From everyone except serial killers and thieves.
Eventually, the guy says he guesses the best address would be the branch I opened my account at all those years ago. Fine.
So, in order to find my account numbers, I log on to wellsfargo.com from one of Kinko's blatantly, glaringly unsecure computers and download the pdf of my bank statement so as to procure my account numbers.
Yeah. That felt real fucking safe. Thanks, Wells Fargo. Law of Unintended Consequences and shit.
Then I left said Kinko's with my check card still in the fax machine. Oops. This is what happens, Wells Fargo, when you don't just give me the freaking account numbers. I muster up all my concentration to smite you and end up unsecuring myself more than if you had just done it for me.
So, this morning, I needed to get some cash into a certain someone's account so she can write checks to get me in my apartment. I wheel up to my neighborhood Wells Fargo to get a certified check. It is 8:30. The Lobby opens at 9. The drive thru has been open since 7:30. I pull up and ask for a cashier's check.
"We can only do those in the Lobby."
"Well, hell." I drive off. Wait. Surely they won't just hand me $550 in cash through the Drive Thru, will they? I take a lap.
"So, if I can't get a cashier's check, will cash post immediately in her account?"
"Yes."
"And I can get $550 right now?"
"Yes."
"Do it."
Lose the certified check? Only a certain someone can do anything with it. Lose eleven $20 bills? Anyone can do anything with it. Maybe even get a half a tank of gas out of it. So, basically, I'm being protected from a more secure transaction by this policy of yours, Wells Fargo. That seems well thought out.
Just wow.
07 May 2008
File it under: Bad ideas
The following is an actual, real, swear to God subject line of an e-mail I really just received:
No Reservations Required – Mother’s Day at Hooters
No Reservations Required – Mother’s Day at Hooters
06 May 2008
Ruined. Utterly. Totally. Ruined.
So, at lunch today, I got to hear my second favorite David Allen Coe song. The one where he's having a conversation with the devil. Compliments him on his fiddle solo being better than Johnny's. (A song ruined for me by a trip to Wurstfest last fall.) And says he never really liked cocaine, just the way it smelled.
ANYWAY, I flipped the station and got treated to a new Willie song. Really dug it and totally forgot about it until tonight, when Zac brought up seeing Willie's Picnic this summer.
So, I bust out the Google for this new Willie song. Come to find out (brace yourself) it was written by Kristofferson. Who I am a big fan of ... if for no other reason than he put out an album titled Jesus Was a Capricorn - a copy of which used to hang on me and Brooke's Wall of Men We Admire. (Johnny Cash, Willie Nelson, Kris Kristofferson, Waylon Jennings, Robert Plant and Bea Arthur)
So, the song comes up on YouTube and there's a clip of Kris doing it. He starts off by saying, "I want to do a song for John and June now." That's a good intro.
And then?
Well he opens his mouth to sing.
Oy vey.
But wait. There's more. Like this guy. (The only one of these clips I couldn't get all the way through, for the record)
Seriously. If you make it all the way through that, I'll give you a dollar.
But wait. There's more. Like this one. The only clip I could find with Willie doing the song with decent audio. I direct your attention to the 1:40, 2:15 and 3:15 marks.
It's like Zac said, "Thank you YouTube and every slapdick with an Apple thinking he can edit videos."
I'd like to think I taught him the term slapdick.
ANYWAY, I flipped the station and got treated to a new Willie song. Really dug it and totally forgot about it until tonight, when Zac brought up seeing Willie's Picnic this summer.
So, I bust out the Google for this new Willie song. Come to find out (brace yourself) it was written by Kristofferson. Who I am a big fan of ... if for no other reason than he put out an album titled Jesus Was a Capricorn - a copy of which used to hang on me and Brooke's Wall of Men We Admire. (Johnny Cash, Willie Nelson, Kris Kristofferson, Waylon Jennings, Robert Plant and Bea Arthur)
So, the song comes up on YouTube and there's a clip of Kris doing it. He starts off by saying, "I want to do a song for John and June now." That's a good intro.
And then?
Well he opens his mouth to sing.
Oy vey.
But wait. There's more. Like this guy. (The only one of these clips I couldn't get all the way through, for the record)
Seriously. If you make it all the way through that, I'll give you a dollar.
But wait. There's more. Like this one. The only clip I could find with Willie doing the song with decent audio. I direct your attention to the 1:40, 2:15 and 3:15 marks.
It's like Zac said, "Thank you YouTube and every slapdick with an Apple thinking he can edit videos."
I'd like to think I taught him the term slapdick.
16 April 2008
09 April 2008
Is there anything worse
than your new "job" causing you to teach your mom the meaning of the word "slapdick"?
02 April 2008
Can somebody tell me?
When did Chris Cornell start sucking?
Seriously. Badmotorfinger is one of the best albums ever. I daresay I have probably listened to it more start to finish than any other album ever. I think it can be argued effectively that Rusty Cage and Outshined are the best one-two tracks in the history of rock. You can follow that up with Room a Thousand Years Wide, Jesus Christ Pose and Searching With My Good Eye Closed.
I'm looking California and feeling Minnesota.
ME TOO, CHRIS!
Too tired to start a fire, I'm burning diesel.
Burning dinosaur bones.
Kick that imagery's ass, Chris.
And, now, certainly I live in a glass house here, but what the hell have you done the last seventeen years, Chris? And can you please stop it?
Audioslave? Oy. You actually proved that Zac de la Rocha was a good singer.
That soundtrack to Great Expectations? Well, it drew attention away from Ethan Hawke ... which was probably the goal of that shitacular endeavor.
Seriously. Badmotorfinger is one of the best albums ever. I daresay I have probably listened to it more start to finish than any other album ever. I think it can be argued effectively that Rusty Cage and Outshined are the best one-two tracks in the history of rock. You can follow that up with Room a Thousand Years Wide, Jesus Christ Pose and Searching With My Good Eye Closed.
I'm looking California and feeling Minnesota.
ME TOO, CHRIS!
Too tired to start a fire, I'm burning diesel.
Burning dinosaur bones.
Kick that imagery's ass, Chris.
And, now, certainly I live in a glass house here, but what the hell have you done the last seventeen years, Chris? And can you please stop it?
Audioslave? Oy. You actually proved that Zac de la Rocha was a good singer.
That soundtrack to Great Expectations? Well, it drew attention away from Ethan Hawke ... which was probably the goal of that shitacular endeavor.
01 April 2008
It's like Casey fucking Kasem
The hits. They just keep on coming:
Hi Colby,
I wanted to touch base with you regarding the Account Manager position at [ad agency]. Unfortunately, at this point the hiring team has chosen to continue the process with another candidate, and they are no longer actively considering your application. However, we have your information on file. Should another position matching your skills become available, we'll be sure to let you know. In the meantime, I wish you the best of luck on your job search.
Best regards,
Person's Name
Hi Colby,
I wanted to touch base with you regarding the Account Manager position at [ad agency]. Unfortunately, at this point the hiring team has chosen to continue the process with another candidate, and they are no longer actively considering your application. However, we have your information on file. Should another position matching your skills become available, we'll be sure to let you know. In the meantime, I wish you the best of luck on your job search.
Best regards,
Person's Name
Hotel Austin
I checked out a long time ago. Clearly, I can never leave.
In fact, a year ago today, I ended a relationship with someone on the grounds that I was moving. The core reality was, I had to have a drastic life change. We both did. That relationship was bleeding both of us dry. I found myself in a terribly unfulfilling job and in a horrible relationship at a terrible time. And I could never overcome the feeling that I deserved better in my life. And deserved to be doing what I want with my life. Also, moving would have accomplished all those things. Which made it the perfect plan.
But, here it is. A year later. And I'm still in Austin. It's like effing groundhog day. Before, I felt like a slave to a life I didn't want. Now I feel like an indentured servant to it. No chains. Still can't go anywhere.
I've thrown hundreds of resumes all over the country. I've talked to dozens of headhunters. I've lied all over my resume. I've volunteered to start over at entry level positions. Anything to get me out of this town. I.HATE.THIS.FUCKING.TOWN. And nothing. Well, I got a magical plane ride that was supposed to somehow give me interactive experience. Apparently I fell asleep at the key parts.
If you asked the general population would you like to live forever and would you like to live in Austin, I bet the percentages would be pretty close for both questions.
But ask any vampire how cool it is to live forever. It's not. They'll happily tell you. They just want to die with dignity. I just want to get the hell out of here. I'm an Austin vampire. An Auspire. A Vampstin.
That sounds like a car. And a kid on a 5 year old soccer team.
Seriously, why can't I be traded to another city? I'm not happy with my playing time, coach. I'm not happy with this West Coast offense we're running now in this city, coach. Your mom, coach.
I'm holding out. I'm going to become a cancer in the locker room. I'm getting into a feud with a reporter who's been covering our team for years. I'm wearing a Yankees hat to an Indians playoff game. I'm reaching out and grabbing a foul ball. I'm laying on the scorer's table until someone throws a drink on me. Then I'm going in the stands. Spider monkey style.
No, I'm not. I'm just going to live forever. Yippee.
In fact, a year ago today, I ended a relationship with someone on the grounds that I was moving. The core reality was, I had to have a drastic life change. We both did. That relationship was bleeding both of us dry. I found myself in a terribly unfulfilling job and in a horrible relationship at a terrible time. And I could never overcome the feeling that I deserved better in my life. And deserved to be doing what I want with my life. Also, moving would have accomplished all those things. Which made it the perfect plan.
But, here it is. A year later. And I'm still in Austin. It's like effing groundhog day. Before, I felt like a slave to a life I didn't want. Now I feel like an indentured servant to it. No chains. Still can't go anywhere.
I've thrown hundreds of resumes all over the country. I've talked to dozens of headhunters. I've lied all over my resume. I've volunteered to start over at entry level positions. Anything to get me out of this town. I.HATE.THIS.FUCKING.TOWN. And nothing. Well, I got a magical plane ride that was supposed to somehow give me interactive experience. Apparently I fell asleep at the key parts.
If you asked the general population would you like to live forever and would you like to live in Austin, I bet the percentages would be pretty close for both questions.
But ask any vampire how cool it is to live forever. It's not. They'll happily tell you. They just want to die with dignity. I just want to get the hell out of here. I'm an Austin vampire. An Auspire. A Vampstin.
That sounds like a car. And a kid on a 5 year old soccer team.
Seriously, why can't I be traded to another city? I'm not happy with my playing time, coach. I'm not happy with this West Coast offense we're running now in this city, coach. Your mom, coach.
I'm holding out. I'm going to become a cancer in the locker room. I'm getting into a feud with a reporter who's been covering our team for years. I'm wearing a Yankees hat to an Indians playoff game. I'm reaching out and grabbing a foul ball. I'm laying on the scorer's table until someone throws a drink on me. Then I'm going in the stands. Spider monkey style.
No, I'm not. I'm just going to live forever. Yippee.
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