Out of Plumb

Signed up for a good 5.5% money market account with Bank of America and they sent me a nice letter confirming the paperwork had been mailed. Fantastic, except they sent all of the paper work to my Mother and Father. This turn of events peeked my interest as I had not provided them that address.

Speaking with the agent I asked oh so causally "so was anything else with my credit card, bank account and social security numbers sent to other address I had not provided you?"

"Oh no sir we don't do that".

Um you did.

Then I ask why they didn't mail to the mailing address I provided on the application.

"We don't like mailing to P.O. boxes"

I wanted to ask why they bothered requesting a mailing address in the first place but I was more curious how it ended up going to 1515. Turns out that was the mailing address they had on file for an old expired credit card. Then feeling sneaky I inquired how come Bank of America used the address of a credit card that has been deactivated for nearly a decade rather than the one that is currently active.

"My records show your current credit card as mailing to the same P.O. Box as the mailing address you have on file with us."

Oh.

I am sure it made perfect sense to somebody. I could have hassled the guy more but I figure as a customer service rep for Bank of America he has got to be on the edge. He might dwell on it all night and blow his brains over the family’s breakfast cereal the next morning. That would be a tragedy I don’t want on my conscience, I mean have you seen the price of cereal lately?

It started with a group that came up and pounded on the storm door so hard they broke out the bottom pane of glass. They seemed surprised that I would be angry and withhold candy. The two that actually broke it are a pair of senior girls who are usually sweet and docile; today I will make it my mission to torment them. The second group was caught in the preparation stage by the wife before they could put their plan in action. Three guys, in black, with face masks, who parked their car half a block down, AFTER all the lights were turned off on the front of the house. When asked what they were doing the response was “uh, trick or treating?” At this point I expected trouble and dressed up in my Carharts to wait outside. Just after eleven a car drives down the alley, then back along the side of the house. Five minutes later it is back cruzing slowly in front of the house. That’s about as big a tell as it gets so I slipped into the shadows to wait. Sure enough a pick-up with its lights off rolls up and kids jump out. As I start to move I catch a whispered “front porch” and see them carrying a large something. Sitting in the dark I had decided not to head for the kids but to head for the car. If it was running I was going to take it a few blocks down, park it in the road and toss the keys in a yard. If it was locked well, I had at least cut off their escape. I didn’t plan for someone to still be in it. Reaching through the driver’s window I grabbed a fistful of hair and twisted the head around so I could see who it was. The driver surprised me some as it was one of the ‘good’ kids. Might have stopped me from hurting him, as it was I think I poked him in the head a little with the rubber end of the walking stick I was brandishing. After that I started yelling, obscenities my wife told me later. As the kids dove into the back of the truck to get a way I broke the walking stick over the tailgate. In the end it was an overreaction, as they were only piling stolen pumpkins and Halloween ornaments in front of my door, a far cry from the rancid milk, dog shit, paintballs and toilet paper of past years. It could have been worse, I was totally capable of hurting someone last night but didn’t. Let’s hope the message gets out, Nelson’s crazy, stay away. I am under far too much stress to fuck with at the moment.


P.S: The last group came in and apologized this morning, like I said good kids.