While doing some routine checking of my bank accounts, I saw an unfamiliar transaction linked to my debit card. The charge was for $22 at Arclight Cinemas in Hollywood. I hadn't been to Arclight in months, so I knew the charge couldn't be mine. My thoughts immediately turned to my ex-girlfriend, and I was convinced that, as things headed south in our relationship, she took a spare moment to record my credit card numbers while I was in the shower or something, having perhaps gotten ideas from hearing my stories of a friend's crazy-ass girlfriend doing the same thing. And the $22 charge meant that she had taken a guest—perhaps a date—to a movie on me, having made the purchase online or over the phone.
Well, I wasn't going to stand for that. I called the bank to dispute the charge and report it as fraud. I told the representative that I was eager to prosecute if the culprit were to be identified. If possible, I also wanted to find out who the bastard was in her company. The bank cancelled my debit card and ordered a new one sent out. They also issued a credit to my account for the disputed amount. After hanging up with the bank, I called Arclight Cinemas to see what information I could retrieve about the transaction. I at least wanted to know what movie I had sprung for.
When I got someone in the administrative office at Arclight, I started to explain what had happened. The woman essentially finished my sentence: "You received a strange charge on your card that you did not authorize." "Uh, yes," I said. "We've had a big problem over here," she said. "Somehow, the receipts from the weekend when Star Wars came out weren't processed until this weekend. We've received around 400 calls about it so far today."
Indeed, my last visit to Arclight was on May 26, when I saw Star Wars—with my ex-girlfriend. The Arclight representative I spoke with looked up the charge and confirmed that it was for May 26.
Indeed, my suspicion that the charge on my debit card involved my ex was correct, and I even identified the bastard she was with: me.
I thought it was really something how I managed to convict her in my mind and heart before all the facts were in. I had considered the scenario that turned out to be the truth, but I assigned it such a low probability that it registered as only the slightest blip of doubt.
The penance for my suspicion: a few days of inconvenience without my debit card or ATM access. It beats a string tied around my finger to remind me that things are not always what they seem.
Well, I wasn't going to stand for that. I called the bank to dispute the charge and report it as fraud. I told the representative that I was eager to prosecute if the culprit were to be identified. If possible, I also wanted to find out who the bastard was in her company. The bank cancelled my debit card and ordered a new one sent out. They also issued a credit to my account for the disputed amount. After hanging up with the bank, I called Arclight Cinemas to see what information I could retrieve about the transaction. I at least wanted to know what movie I had sprung for.
When I got someone in the administrative office at Arclight, I started to explain what had happened. The woman essentially finished my sentence: "You received a strange charge on your card that you did not authorize." "Uh, yes," I said. "We've had a big problem over here," she said. "Somehow, the receipts from the weekend when Star Wars came out weren't processed until this weekend. We've received around 400 calls about it so far today."
Indeed, my last visit to Arclight was on May 26, when I saw Star Wars—with my ex-girlfriend. The Arclight representative I spoke with looked up the charge and confirmed that it was for May 26.
Indeed, my suspicion that the charge on my debit card involved my ex was correct, and I even identified the bastard she was with: me.
I thought it was really something how I managed to convict her in my mind and heart before all the facts were in. I had considered the scenario that turned out to be the truth, but I assigned it such a low probability that it registered as only the slightest blip of doubt.
The penance for my suspicion: a few days of inconvenience without my debit card or ATM access. It beats a string tied around my finger to remind me that things are not always what they seem.
