Headin’ outta town. Gotta buy some airplane tix. Check a few websites, find the best deal. Book the flights. Go to pay — and my American Express card is rejected.
This hasn’t happened to me since President Alzheimer was semi-coherent. So I purchase the tickets with another card, and call AX to find out what happened.
“It could be several reasons,” I learn. “We constantly upgrade our databases based on credit reports, or a late payment, or other data that impacts your account.”
I understand what it could be, but what I specifically asked is, What WAS it. You know, in fact? Reality? Wha’ happened?
“I can’t tell that from our records, sir. You would need to contact a credit agency and request a copy of your report.”
Wait a minute — YOU have access to this report and I don’t? I’m YOUR customer. This is MY account. Why do you conceal information about MY account with YOU when you’re okay blabbing to this third-party agency, which, as you just told me, might not even be relevant to a decision YOU made about MY credit line?
“That’s the policy you agreed to, sir, when you signed on. We can change your credit line based on any information we gather, and we are not obligated to either reveal those sources or even inform you when we make changes.” She pauses. “You’re fucked, faggot. Go find some ass to suck on.”
Okay, she didn’t say that last part. Not in so many words.
She informs me my credit limit, which used to be several thousand dollars, is now $600! This is American Express, the card I’m not supposed to leave home without? With a $600 credit limit, I can’t leave the house.
Back in graduate school — no job, no money, no other income, no credit record, no assets (and, it turned out, no future) — I had a $10,000 credit limit with these asshats. Which I promptly blew through and reneged on and dared them to come get me, which is another hilarious story and the reason I couldn’t get an AX card for two decades, and only got this one through Stealth, Manipulation, and Deception. Which is also the name of my legal counsel.
“You can apply for an increase now if you like,” she offers.
Really? What do you need to know?
“Personal income for your last reporting year and any liquid assets in your name.”
Barely able to stifle my laughter, I give her some wildly inflated numbers that put me comfortably into what is known these days as the 1%. She puts me on hold to subject me with to Donna Summers Muzak — how appropriate .
“We can increase your credit limit to $3,000,” she says upon returning.
That’s all? How do I get back to $25,000, where we started? (*snort gasp rattle*)
“You can apply on-line for an increase in 6 months,” she says. “If nothing negative has been reported, the increase will be considered.”
My nose having grown to the length of Peter North’s pork sword, I thank her kindly, hang up, and mark the calendar. Wow, a reason to live another 6 months!
I love corporate America. I’m so relieved our fate is in their competent hands.