Sunday, August 15, 2010

Why I get crabby

I was catching up with some inside errands -- one was to cancel a credit card that I lost. Yes, this was dumb. I got a new credit card and then I guess I shredded it, recycled it, or something. Kept thinking it would turn up, but I called today to cancel and it hadn't been used. It had never been authenticated, or whatever that word is.

So my first annoyance was the phone tree. Then the second was I honestly could not understand the woman -- she had a very heavy accent and then spoke fast. Finally I said to her, "I can't understand you" and it sounds so nasty in a way, but I live in NYC where just about everyone we deal with has an accent and if I can't understand her, there's no way someone from Ohio could ever know what she was saying.

She slowed down, we canceled the card and even though she knew I had never used the card, the card had zero balance, no transactions -- she proceded to read this lengthy legal document as if I were transferring a balance or how if any websites have this credit card number, it's my responsibility to change it... I interrupted her and said "The card has never been used" and she said she had to read that to me anyway and off she went slurring and blurring and blabbing away.

Ok, so that got done... and the next task was to donate money for a friend whose doing a disease walk. I sort of don't like being hit up, but I feel as if I can put some of my charitable dollars toward these things and what difference does it make.

However donating should be as simple as possible, and this wasn't. You had to hunt for the donate button, hunt to figure out how to make sure my friend got credit, and then there was this tiny type disclaimer that I was supposed to sign off on AS IF I WERE IN THE WALK. You know, that the walk has inherent risks,the long list of people and institutions I won't hold responsible if I keel over mid-walk etc. I skimmed it and then thought I don't have to "sign" this since I'm not in the walk, but it wouldn't take my donation unless I signed off on it. It's just annoying. I didn't even read it... really, it went off paragraph after paragraph.

I also don't like that the local group then hits me up all year long for more donations... as if someone living in NYC is going to donate to a local chapter hundreds of miles away. Ok, I can hear the crabbiness rising in my voice. I know they all do good work, and I know there are worthy causes...which brings me to another reason I'm crabby...

My Vanity Fair subscription.

I made the mistake, and I mean that seriously, of saying yes to a phone solicitor thinking it would be easy to re-subscribe that way. It was during a time VF was having a deal with a disease society. I don't even want to name the disease because I'm not making fun or disparaging the disease but it's not one I particularly care about... so every damn year I get this phone call to thank me for my wonderful support of this disease society. Over the years, I have asked that they stop talking about this disease to me, how I don't care about it, and just want my magazine.

This year, I just hung up on them. I couldn't face another fake sincere thank you for my heartfelt (not) support of this disease. Of course, they keep calling back -- hang ups mean nothing to them... and I ended up screaming at the woman to take me off the list. I'll get my magazine some other way.

This, folks, is why I'm a crab.

No comments: