Is somebody trying to tell me something?
I have finally reached that point in my career when people have begun to ask me, without my broaching the subject, when I plan to retire.
Perhaps worse, I have been getting multiple calls daily on my cell phone to discuss the burial insurance options that the state of Tennessee can provide for me.
Some people my age are more fortunate. Though they get anonymous cell phone calls daily just as I do, their impending retirement/burial is not being contemplated. Their callers from India, on the other hand, are very concerned about their car warranties. They are so fortunate—a car is not needed as often upon retirement, and not at all upon burial, other than by the funeral home, and even that need can be averted in case of cremation. I think I might prefer to have my spammers worry about my car warranty as there seems to be a greater hope for the future implied.
I must admire the hope for the future displayed by a man who walked into a lumber yard and asked for some two by fours. The clerk asked the man how long he needed them. He replied, “A long time. We’re gonna build a house!”
Credit card offers can be a sign of the times. When I was younger and had no money, it seemed I would receive at least one credit card offer per week. My situation was so well known to the credit card companies that all my offers were pre-approved. Over the years I settled with having two cards to my “credit”.
One of these companies continued to raise my credit limit (their choice, not my request) until it reached $15,000. That was enough at the time to purchase a new car for cash, so long as it was not too extravagant! In later years the company reduced my credit limit to less than half that amount (also their choice, not my request). So much for customer appreciation and reward!
Recently I called this company to dispute a charge. The customer service representative very obligingly took the necessary steps to have those charges removed from my account. To prevent future threat of fraud, my card was de-activated and I was told a new card with a new account number would be issued. As I was unable to correctly answer a question about a phone number on my account, I was asked to prove my identity by sending the company a copy of my driver’s license via email before my replacement card would be mailed.
First of all, the company never questioned my identity when they issued me the card and for the approximate twenty-five years I have used the account and paid the charges. Second, it seems to me the threat of identity theft/possibility of fraud would be greatly magnified by sending driver’s license information in any form.
Thus far, I have not responded to the request for the driver’s license information, and the company has not mailed me a replacement card. I’m sure the bill with its recurring monthly charges will come in the mail just as always. I may call the company and ask them to prove their identity before I submit payment.
I suppose life could be much worse. Inflation is now so bad that someone noted a neighbor received a pre-declined credit card in the mail. I’m waiting for that experience!
What did people do back in the 1940s, when Grandpa reports there were no such things as credit cards? If only the words of Thomas Jefferson could have been adhered to throughout American history: "It is incumbent on every generation to pay its own debts as it goes. A principle which if acted on, would save one-half the wars of the world."
But time marches on. The older I get, the more it seems my mind is like an internet browser: nineteen tabs are open, three of them are frozen, and I have no idea where the music is coming from.
It was noted that in the 1960s, people took LSD to make the world weird. Now the world is weird, and people take Prozac to make it normal. (Could that be the definition of evolution? If people evolve from monkeys, why are monkeys still around?)
My credit card concerns, along with thoughts of impending retirement and the need for burial insurance, are not getting me down yet. A principal once told her supervisor, “I’m not paranoid. They’re out to get me!” I may be out at times, but I’m not down for the count. A song I seem to think of more often of late is “They’re Coming to Take Me Away”!
A South Carolina highway patrolman once pulled over a car. As he was writing the ticket, the motorist complained, “That’s not fair!” The patrolman replied, “Fair? You want me to be fair? Listen, fair is a place where you go to ride on rides, eat cotton candy and corn dogs, and step in animal poop!”
Dear Reader, may you enjoy your ride of life, drink free bubble-up, eat rainbow stew, and avoid the animal poop! Next time I’ll share some thoughts about one of the favorite holiday characters of a favorite Christmas movie.