Othermes

Anne Berkeley is Assistant Professor of Theatre Arts at Utah State University
anne berkeley is a program assistant in colorado's child support enforcement program
anneberkeleyx3 on twitter: he is the same as me!! xD i dont like that -_-

It's disconcerting to find that there are other people out there with the same name. Perhaps if you are John Smith or Jane Brown it feels a bit different from how it feels for me. But still. There is this aural space you feel entitled to occupy, this signifier which since you were a child you expected to own uniquely.

You grow up. You learn you aren't unique, nothing about you is unique. You even get round to finding this exit from solipsism oddly consoling. Then along comes the internet. Google. Twitter.

There is someone with the same name as me who tweets @ someone called Andrew. How dare she so casually assume my name? And who is Andrew? A late adopter of blogs, a reluctant participant in facebook, and with no desire to tweet, I suddenly feel like the woman who returns from holiday to find someone else living in her house, only it isn't her house after all. It never was.

Is she like me? Are we perhaps related? And does she feel annoyed that there's this Limey using her name?

I work for your credit card company, you can trust me

I'm in town with OH when his cellphone rings. It's for you, he says, puzzled, handing me the contraption.

I do not know anyone who would contact me on that number.

When I've figured out which way round to hold it, there's a voice from the depths of southern Asia telling me that this is my credit card company calling and they must check a few security details with me before they can tell me what it's about. They won't tell me anything until I answer their questions, as they want to be sure they are talking to the right person.

Huh? Someone rings me out of the blue about my credit card, on someone else's telephone, and wants to check my security details?

- How do I know you are who you say you are? I don't want to give any information over the telephone to a stranger. Can you tell me what this is about?

- I am sorry madam, I am not permitted to discuss anything about the account with you without first clearing your security details.

(Things like the colour of my grandmother's eyes, and the check digits on the back of the card. Things that would be jolly useful to someone wanting to use my card.) This really isn't a good time to call. OH and I in the middle of trying to buy a car. She is insistent. She suggests I call their customer service department, and starts to dictate a number.

- Sorry, I don't know who you are. I will ring the number on the back of my card.

It's a joint account, that's why they rang on OH's telephone. It transpires that someone had been trying to use my card to buy goods online "in the Pacific area" and the credit card company wanted to check it wasn't me. No, it wasn't. (Where in the Pacific area, I'm dying to know. Anchorage? Honolulu? Shanghai?) My card is now cancelled, a new card is on its way and I must let them know if it doesn't arrive within ten days. Lucky I have another credit card, what with Christmas coming up and everything.

Honestly, I'm grateful that they checked, rather than just paying out and not telling me my credit limit was up until I tried to check out the latest bit of black goods for the offspring's pressie. But what is the mentality of these institutions? They are forever asking us to be vigilant against fraud, yet they act as if they didn't know what it was like to be a customer. Imagine that you'd just paid for a meal in a restaurant where there happened to be a dodgy employee. I know I know, but it does happen. The employee has your name and credit card number, he has the telephone number from the booking; all he needs now are the answers to the security questions to be able to exhaust your unasked-for credit limit.