You can’t make crap like this up. So just the facts….
Rick, our Wanna-be Mountie, was on a rant the other morning. Not that that was unusual, it was just this time he had documented proof.
“The rotten $%%#@s cancelled my credit card!” roared Rick his voice dripping with injured indignation. As a Covid-19 anti-isolation project Rick had decided to research his family tree with a DNA kit. He ordered one up.
“I’m sorry sir, but your credit card has been rejected. Do you have another card?” inquired the enthusiastic marketer, reluctant to have another sucker… er, I mean prospect… slip from her grasp.
“No way! I’ve had that card forever, but since I’m not moving around much with this Covid-19 thing, I hardly ever use it now. I’ll get it straightened out,” roared an indignant Rick, in a tone much like an OPP officer that had been pulled over by the sergeant from an adjoining patrol district.
“Well sir, your card has been cancelled for non-payment last month. We’ve put it in for collection. With this Covid-19 thing we thought you might be dead,” explained the calm, polite bank telephone receptionist.
“Cancelled! It can’t be. How much do I owe? What! $3.40!? And you cancelled my card!?” roared a sputtering Rick, his blood pressure hitting 8.9 on the Richter scale.
“That’s right sir. Cancelled! You can apply for a new one, but with the Covid-19 delays that could take two or three weeks. And even then with your now poor credit history I doubt you will even be approved,” explained the put upon, but ever patient and pleasant receptionist.
“Never mind, I’m going to the bank right now and paying it off. Don’t ever call me again!” roared Rick as he slammed down the phone, loaded the Hounds of the Baskervilles into the truck and roared off to Fat Frantic to complete the divorce.
When Rick opened his mail the next week he was astounded to find a credit card statement. “You owe $0.58. It is overdue. Protect you credit Rating! Please pay. We have submitted this account for collection,” read the notice.
Fortunately the new fibre optic phone cable into the bank can handle excessive volume without fusing the entire circuit board. “Please tell me you actually are employed by the bank, because I don’t want to be accused of yelling at someone from a temp agency,” explained Rick before he started into his tirade.
It took another trip to Fat Frantic to pay off the $0.58. The Hounds of the Baskervilles enjoyed the ride and the stop at McDs for a burger.
Rick was back in the Bakery in Rainy River the other day just before our latest Covid Lockdown.
“Look at this!” he ranted waving his latest epistle from the bank, a credit card statement for $0.04 denoted as “retail interest”. The bill was stamped “PAID” and dated.
“The manager said to forget it, but I insisted. I dug four pennies out of that jar on the dresser, took them to the teller, insisted she stamp it ‘Paid’ and wished them all a pleasant day. The dogs were happy to stop at McDs.” Concluded Rick as the ground tremors subsided to just a table rattling level
Rick should have his new credit card from the local bank shortly. Probably with a low credit limit as he has a recent history of payment problems
This ironically concluded on April 1, but honestly and sincerely, you can’t make this crap up!