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There are worse things than "fraud"

My (un)controlled rage this week has been directed at Citibank. Apparently the fact that I moved has drawn the ire of their Fraud Protection Department of Homeland Security, who can't verify my new address using their "various means of verification." Never mind the fact that they already sent a new card to the new address!

So they called "for my protection" (from moving?), and wanted to do "workplace verification," except that I answer the frickin' phone at my workplace, so it doesn't mean beans. Next, they want to move to "more invasive means" (anal probe?), which can be 1) reading me stuff from my credit report (what? how can that help? I haven't seen my credit report), or 2) having me go to a bank, show the teller my ID and having them call Citibank to tell them it's me (doesn't that sound a lot like me doing work? and what magical privileges does the schmo behind the glass have?).

Needless to say, I got "all up in the grill" of the woman who called me, resulting in this conversation:
Me: So this is what happens every time someone tries to move?
Drone 1: Sir, I understand it's an inconvenience, but...(yadda, yadda—I stopped listening)
Me: So what if I just never use my card again?
Drone 1: Well, you can do that if you like.
Me: Which means, basically, that because you've made this such a pain, that you won't be getting more business from me.
Drone 1: Sir, we have thousands of customers. It really doesn't matter to us.
After hanging up, I called to chew out someone new, just for variety. Same drill, until this:
Me: So you've said you can't help me. Who can help me?
Drone 2: Sir, those are all the options we have.
Me: Then it sounds like you and I have done all we can, and I would need to talk with your boss next.
Drone 2: (Hummunahummunahummmuna) You mean my supervisor? Um...she um...she can't do anything, either...
Me: But you and I are done, right? Can you get her for me?
Drone 2: Yes, I'll see if my supervisor is available.
All that resulted in this (at 16:45 yesterday):
Me: So since I answer the phone at my job, and since your investigative methods can't confirm that I live where I say I live, I have to go to a bank every time I want to move?
Borg Queen: Well, is there someone else at your office? Could you transfer me to them if I called?
Me: I can do that? Really? Thank you! I can't believe I had to go through two other people to learn this!
Borg Queen: Well, could you transfer me now?
Me: No, he's on the phone.
Borg Queen: If I tried back in five minutes, could I talk to him?
Me: I have absolutely no way of knowing that. You can try.
Borg Queen: OK, I'll call back in five minutes.
I stayed at the office until 17:30. Nothing.

Asshats.

Comments

It's like a sitcom.

But that's us.

I think you've got enough ammunition to turn the (un)controlled rage into "Look at what someone said, someone better give me something free right now".
But how would they know where to send it?
Maybe they need to take some Donnie Darko lessons.
Excellent reference!