Theft.

So this is to serve as a complaint about our system of commerce. Over the weekend, 2 charges showed up on my debit card that I did not recognize. Charges amounting to over 600 dollars, which, in my world, is significant. My wife and I share that account, so I approached her about the charges and she did not recognize them either. I called the bank to alert them of these charges and both of our confusion. I had to initiate a fraud alerting transaction with the bank, which has so far resulted in my debit card number being disabled. This action, I applaud because that means nobody else can use it for their nefariousness. That's where the applause stops. When I asked the bank what is going to happen, I got some fairly nebulous responses raging from "the charges just might drop off" to " the vendor may have to issue you a refund". That's one "might" and one "may". My money did not "might" or "may" get stolen, THEY STOLE IT! No iffs ands or butts. Plain and simple, they stole my money. By the way by "they" I mean American Eagle Outfitters in Pennsylvania. So here I have 2 transactions, behind which is an electronic trail, with names, dates, maybe some sort of reference number, etc. and this is being treated like its some sort of fucking mystery.

I called American Eagle Outfitters to enquire which asshat took my money. I was, of course, given the runaround, and eventually told to basically piss up a rope, they weren't going to do anything for me, that the "items had already shipped"(!). Your skull will be my urinal.

So then I called the cops. The sheriff to be precise. A deputy showed up at my door within a few minutes to take my statement. Wearing too much perfume, and oddly turning me on because she could obviously kick my ass and shoot me with the gun on her belt, the deputy took my statement. She then proceeded to advise me that I should subscribe to one of those ID Theft protection services,and that these cases sometimes don't get resolved unfortunately.

Is everyone blind to the fact that 1) these bedwetters took my money, and 2) there is a record of the transaction and 3) an attached trail of information, like items, addresses, names, dates, probably phone numbers? I mean the stuff had to get shipped somewhere, right? START THERE!  This is NOT a mystery. Kyra Sedgwick will not be needed here. This should have started and ended with me telling the bank I did not authorize the purchase of 600 dollars worth of campy khaki cargo pants!

More to come.

EDIT: It's now a few days later, and I found out some new information. After I reported the deal to the local Sheriff, an Investigator called me to share some information. The reason nobody really seems to give a rat's ass about my 600 bucks is that, according to Federal law, as long as I notified my bank within one statement cycle (which I did), the bank has to refund me any charges I report as unauthorized. I then called the bank to add the Sheriffs case number to my claim number (the cops recommended this), and the voice at the bank confirmed this. I asked the voice at  the bank why the hell don't they OPEN with this information, seeing as how (at least) I freak out when people steal money from me apparently, and didn't get a good answer. Actually I got no answer at all. All they had to do was tell me that, and I would have freaked less. So I checked my bank account this morning, and one charge already dropped off, and I'll (somewhat) patiently wait for the other. I would still use the American Eagle guy's skull as my urinal if I get the chance (I'm a big fan of the oatmeal.com!). So, back on topic with baby raising stuff from here on out.

Am I Helpless Or Lining Up My Shot?

I would hate to use the word helpless because quite frankly that's a bullshit word, to borrow a bit from the show Jersey Boys. I am not a helpless person. I am a man. I have gone to lots of places and done lots of things, some even good things, some rarely even smart things. I have led a full and, more or less, productive life. Someone once told me in order to be happy, you either have to make a difference or really love what you do (I may have said that before, please forgive). In my previous live, I would like to think I made a difference, so I enjoyed what I did for a living. The gratification was instant and obvious. I was helping good people do their good works. I was a rock. Unflappable. Hah! there, I used the word "unflappable"! It's just a fun word to say, isn't it? Unflappable. Kinda like imperturbable. OK, enough of that.

This week I was flapped. I flapped myself. I had a flappy day. Dammit, OK Ill stop. I went to pick up Joy who had filled her diaper so significantly I thought the neighbors might smell it. Wowie that wonderful little bundle sure can make a stank. When reaching down for her, I threw my back out. I have a long and storied history with back troubles dating back probably over 20 years (I'm feeling a little more flapped just thinking about that), and even surgery a few years ago. My spouse was away on business and it was just me and Joy, just us turkeys, and one turkey was... heh. I won't do it... injured. When you put your back out, usually one or more events occur, you strain the tendons that hold a particular vertebra in alignment so that vertebra is now out of alignment, kinda like pulling one tent stake out and the tent goes wonky, or you just aggravate the soft tissues, and either way the tissues directly involved with the injury start to go into distress, and the surrounding tissues can also go into sympathetic distress, or spasm. So, it's like the tent, which is already hurting is also being pulled in other directions by the other tent stakes making the situation mucho worse. Suffice it to say, it hurts. Like a lot.

So there I was, stanky baby in my arms, just about wailing from pain and all alone. I got her changed, and back on the floor safely when I called my family for help. They came over immediately to take care of Joy and take my flapped ass to the ER. Long story short(er), I'm back home, everyone is ok and my back hurts like hell. It will too, for another few months, just to remind me not to be stupid (anymore). It's penance. I am a recovering catholic, so it's appropriate. I accept this.

This brings on a new feeling to me. As anyone who knows me knows I'm grappling with my new station in life. Heck that's the purpose of this blog. This event just brought me down a notch though. I was not the helpless one remember, I was the rock. I feel less like a rock and more like a sea cucumber. Kinda passively existing, waiting for the currents to bring me some grub. Not going after life, letting life wash over me. I've gone from existing in this world to hoping the world allows me to exist in it.Have I been here all along? I don't know. I doubt it. I would like to think not. A rock would not allow it. Well, maybe that's where the metaphor breaks down. Anyway, I digress. Right now I am more or less helpless. There was not much to do in my pre-injury life, and I can do even less now.

So now, I'm grappling with the idea of being even less effective than before. What will be the outcome? I don't know, I can't offer any solutions at the moment. I had tried to make some money to help the budget around here, and I did make a little. Every little bit helps, but it was really only a drop in the bucket. I have to find a way to get my mind through all this. I have to find a way to be comfortable with this, but not too comfortable. That's a mighty fine line to walk, if I do say so myself. If I get comfortable with my lifestyle, will maybe some day come that I can't be comfortable with another? Will I become lazy? Does it ever come back? I'm told it does. By "it" I mean the "it" that was lost when I took this new job. "It" would be drive, motivation, whatever you want to call it. Rocks have "it". I feel I'm losing "it" and "it" won't come back, now that I'm even farther away than a few days ago.

You can't see the stag in your scope if you're too close to it. You have to step away to get the big picture and line up your shot, otherwise it is too blurry. I have a new perspective on my new job. I've taken a step back and maybe even though I'm further down from where I was before, I can hopefully see it now more clearly and get the big picture. I am hoping to see it for what it is, not for what I was in it. Or what I am in it. Maybe I was too close to it. It's not about me anyway, is it?