My bank’s fraud protection bureau called, texted, and emailed me the other day. We haven't been in touch in awhile and it's always nice to hear from those I hold in high regard.
I used to be the one to initiate the contact. Among other snafus, I’ve fallen for an attempted banking-related scam in the past. The scammers keep trying their luck with me, this is what they’re doing with their lives. Now, I start off suspecting that nearly every caller, texter, and emailer who isn’t a part of my contacts list is out to grab my assets. I assumed my benevolent bank’s voicemail, text, and email were frauds themselves until I remembered how I’ve been spending money like a Bravo Real Housewife lately.
It’s a nightmare when someone seizes your account information or social security number and has his or her criminal way with it. But who coined the term “identity theft” (can I nail down a name and a date of birth)? It’s so dramatic, so Bravo and Real Housewives. When I first heard it, I thought it crossed over into brainwashing, forced lobotomy, or sci-fi territory. Good thing it's not that deep. If something is just a huge, drawn-out inconvenience, I'll cope. I'll eventually wake up from a nightmare. Inconveniences, the bigger and bolder the better, can bloom into good stories. I get joy out of being able to tell a new person about the weekday afternoon the underworld came dangerously close to stealing my identity, knowing that my real identity is complex, private, and incapable of going anywhere without my express authorization.