It’s payday—oh, most blessed of days—so this morning I logged in to check the balance on my bank account.
I was surprised to discover that I’ve been doing quite a lot of shopping in Great Britain.
Some git has gotten his bloody paws on my Visa card number, and has apparently been treating himself to some football gear and a few pints. He also had the bottle to use my card at a municipal courthouse of some sort.
I immediately called my bank and answered a litany of questions. They closed my account and told me a new card would be on its way. Then, I went to all of the online vendors I use—Amazon, Audible, iStockphoto, iTunes, PayPal … well, you get the idea—and changed the billing.
It was a bit of a dog’s breakfast, but I didn’t really mind. After all, I won’t be liable for the $200 or so in petty charges to my card.
But after I hung up with the bank, I started to wonder: Why didn’t they question the charges? I very seldom use that account.
As it happens, I did use it on February 11: I had dinner at the Obento-Ya Japanese restaurant in Minneapolis. And at about the same time, I bought a rugby jersey in Birmingham. You’d think this would raise an electronic eyebrow somewhere.
It’s a creepy feeling to know that someone has gotten hold of my credit card number, but it’s even creepier to realize just how vulnerable my financial information really is.
It’s enough to make me long for the days of cash.