i was just trying to pay my bill, you bastards

i've had this one credit card since i was like 9 (okay, more like 23) and at some point, i decided to "go paperless" and stopped receiving statements in the mail. at some other point, i decided to hide this credit card to prevent myself from using it. i did a damn good job of that. can't find the stupid thing anywhere.

i recently "disabled" my access to this credit card account online, just in time to be late. so i called the credit card company, told them what an idiot i was for not remembering my password, and asked if they could please reset my password so i could log on & pay, late fee & all. i also explained that i successfully hid the credit card, so i wasn't able to reset my password without their assistance.

i spoke to one customer service representative who told me it would be no problem getting my account information as long as i answered a few (more like a billion) security questions. i answered all of those questions & even offered to give her a urine sample. (she sounded confused at the offer.)

she then told me she couldn't give me my account information over the phone.

so she transferred me to someone else.
who transferred me to someone else.

and then, i finally spoke to the one person who i was told could help me log on to my account.

she told me i needed my credit card.
i told her i didn't have the credit card on hand.

she told me to find the credit card.
i told her i've looked to the credit card, but really couldn't find it.

she told me i really needed that credit card to be able to log on to my account.
i told her that wasn't gonna happen.

she told me she couldn't help me unless i had the card.
i told her i wouldn't be calling if i didn't have the stupid card.

she told me to go look for the card and then call back.
[expletive deleted.]

this evening, i turned my house upside-down, shook it vigorously, & finally found an ancient statement with an account number. i managed to pay my bill over the phone.

i could have paid my bill over the phone.

you bastard people at bank one, after getting every pertinent detail of my life except my blood type (and it's b-pos, just so you know), could have freakin' helped me pay my damn bill over the phone.

if i knew where the hell that card was, why i'd...i'd...damn, i better go find that bastard card. i'll cut the bastard thing up into little tiny shreds.

if i ever find it. and i might, one day.

no, i'm not bitter.

rat bank one bastards.