Satirical Snapshots Bringing You Whimsy On A Wednesday!
Let’s just start with the fact that I was tired. Very tired. Sunday morning after the clocks had gone forward the night before which always gives a jet lag effect. Not to mention that I’d got up at 5 am which in my current state of mind was 4 am. Still in my dressing gown, trying to make a cafetière of coffee. Forgot to grind the beans the day before so my little ground coffee pot was empty. Had to go through that rigmarole. Spilt coffee grains everywhere. Bollocks.
Sat down at my little kitchen table, watching the news but not really listening because it’s the same old story. Groundhog Day. Stuck in a loop. And then a banner alert flashed across my iPhone screen.
“There has been unusual activity on your PayPal account. Please change your password now”
I did that eye-rolling thing up to Heaven and followed the instructions to set a new password. I sat there for ages trying to think of something I wouldn’t forget because I’m sure, like many others, there’s a handful of passwords that you use and can’t ever remember which one goes with which site or app. Get’s right on my nerves, to be honest.
I get into the site and have a quick nosy around. All seemed to be OK so I didn’t know what that was all about. I scroll through this year’s purchases and it all looks legit. And then I spot the villain.
Ishmael Vanderbik.
The devious little delinquent had taken £297.84 from my account.
And then another amount for 80 odd quid on the same day for something from eBay
Two days later, another two ridiculous amounts again to eBay.
This continued until I noted several transactions amounting to around 600 nicker.
Boy, did that make my coffee taste bitter. Resentment does not go well with the dark chocolate and cinnamon notes of an Italian roast.
Felon and On and On
I had to fester for a couple of hours, pondering on the devilry of evildoers and rapscallions and winding myself up into a frenzy about everything that is wrong with this kind of people, and, how I think they should be dealt with.
We’ve even got dognappers going around the area now, nicking desirable hounds from back yards and gangs rolling up in vans taking your dog off you on the street. Apparently, since lockdown, your pet pooch has become a much-valued commodity fetching more than 100g of crack. Because I’m already a highly-suspicious-of-everyone individual, this now has me being rudely aloof and ready to take action with anyone who starts paying attention to my dogs, which is a frequent occurrence. Don’t think that just because you’re a doddery old granny I’m not on to you, lady. I bet you’ve got a ring of grandkids and great-nephews running this gig for you why you rake it in. Back off from my hounds or I’ll have to use the attack word.
But, aside from these reprobates, who are the blockheads buying stolen pups from them?
Where’s a pandemic when you need one?
Mithering the Middle-Man
Anyway, I eventually got chatting with a PayPal Robot. That was a waste of time because robots can only deal with 1 transaction at a time and not several layers of fraud. I gave up and went to look for a phone number. Like a bloody maze.
When you ring Paypal you have to input a special pin-code before they answer. Of course you do. Why make it simple?
I eventually get to speak to a chap with an Irish accent.
This got me on the defensive straight away because being English he’s bound to hate me and not want to help. I’m already despising the Jewish clog-hopping Ishmael Vanderbik that’s right royally ripped me off and I don’t need an anti- English Irishman giving me any shit. This was the sort of mood I’d got myself into by 9 o clock on Sunday morning. Anyone not directly related to me at this point could go to hell in a handbasket. And even then, relatives weren’t necessarily safe.
“My account has been hacked. There are numerous fraudulent transactions dating back to October 20. Now, before you start asking why I didn’t notice them back then, let me tell you that I’ve had a very complicated year. Plus, I fully expect to get overdrawn near Christmas because I’m loving and giving. So, I won’t have noticed stuff leaving my bank account. Anyway, I’ve been too busy protecting my dogs from mongrel-smugglers. I want my money back.”
The Irish bloke was very helpful and accommodating.
“Ah, I see this rather large amount that has been taken from an Ishmael Vanderbik.”
Now we were mates, I could relax a little.
“Right? I mean talk about made-up names! He may as well have put Mickey Mouse and be done with it. I mean, come on – as if I’d pay someone all that money with such a fabricated moniker”
“Most of these have come from your eBay account so it looks like that has been hacked.”
“Well, it must have been because I rarely buy anything from there.”
“You need to call them on the number I give you because we will need to liaise with them. And make sure you change your password on there. Once you’ve done that we will refund all of these fraudulent transactions back into your bank account.”
I left the call feeling a lot happier with mankind than when I started.
Consign to Oblivion
I went on to eBay. I changed my password. Before I called them I thought I should check these supposed transactions against the PayPal ones. If at all they were there. I opened up recent purchases and scrolled through.
Rustic oak table made from reclaimed planks – £297.84
Ah…
Second-hand oak antique chairs – 80 odd quid.
Looks across at chairs…
All other transactions for household goods stood defiantly in the morning sunshine gleaming through the window and lighting up my lunacy.
Turns out it was in fact my very self that bought all of these things including the rather lovely table from Ish.
I felt like such a muppet explaining my mistake on the return phone call to PayPal. Thank God for gin in a tin.
