Saturday, February 28, 2009

One Small Victory in the Bailout Era











I have two months to study this brochure and determine whether or not I qualify for the $35,000,000 (thirty-five million dollars) class action settlement from Bank of America. As it stands, I think I have to send them a letter either way: I can include myself or exclude myself. I think. 35-mln, peanuts these days, especially for what will in all likelihood turn out to be a pretty big class, but the tiny trickle of funds into my account has produced a balance modest enough to encourage an accommodating attitude towards any additions which may arrive, so I'll reread the brochure. It arrived unrequested in the mail. I didn't ask for it.
Having skimmed through once or twice, it doesn't look good, in fact, because I don't have a Bank of America debit card, but like I said, there's time to comb the fine print. I do have other credit cards occasionally in use, and recently I had an interesting experience related to personal finance and customer relations.
A letter from the credit card (CC) company arrived informing me that unfortunate transactions had occurred involving their lists of CC numbers and illegitimate participants in global markets, who might be planning to incur costs on others' accounts. Mine. For this reason, I would be receiving a new CC from them and could cut up the old one.
I called them to ask for more information. Specifically, I thought it opportune to inquire about the way in which my CC number might have been targetted. Where had this occurred?

That's confidential. We are not going to tell you that, as it could lead you to avoid doing business with the enterprise in question in the future. The fraud was no fault of their own, and these businesses are our clients. They must be able to rely on confidentiality at all times!
Oh, even as a small CC-holder, I'm a client, too. Aren't I? Don't I have a right to know what's happening with my miniscule account, especially if something goes wrong? It's my card, after all.
It's not your card. WE own it.
Actually, your company earns quite a reasonable rate of interest on anything that transpires involving the card which bears my name. If you wish to keep me as a client, you might want to respond to my request for transparency in a more civilized tone. But you sound quite angry and upset, so I think I'll just thank you so much for your time and get off the phone now and send a letter to your office.
You DO that. The letter will arrive on my desk and I'll answer you with the EXACT same information.
I sustained this tranquil mode while composing a short letter which now included both my original message and my disappointment at having heard that CC-holders were viewed as second-class clients. I never did receive an answer on paper, but the letter evidently landed on someone else’s desk, because within a few days, the phone rang, and a different voice from the CC-company greeted me in the most cordial of tones.
It is most regrettable that you were left with the impression that certain clients are more valuable than others. We are really in a bind here. I hope you can understand.
I do understand. If I were investigating this subject, I guess I would somehow gain access to the information about potential dangers to CC-accounts. Now of course I am not conducting an investigation - even though I am experienced in the field of journalism; I could forward you some of my work if you'd like - but I must stand by the principle of having a right to know what goes wrong when it goes wrong out in world of retail and apparently I’m involved.
I don't think anyone mentioned retail.
Well, you mean it wasn't retail?

And so forth. This quite pleasant conversation continued with the utmost respect from and towards both parties. At a certain point, disclosure of both the geographical and retail locations became inevitable, as we agreed that principled action and accurate exchange of knowledge was the most fulfilling premise for all business relations. I truly believe that this second young man from the CC-company had a new professional experience on the phone that day, disclosing the information which his company was not supposed to provide. In doing so, we sealed a deal based on trust. I vowed that I would never report having found out the name and location of the store where my CC-details were fed into a crime ring.





Saturday, February 7, 2009

Name as Noun


I've been called many names in my time [Please see 'Name as Gerund, ' January 21, 2008] but this was a real surprise, breaking what had felt like a long, tedious stretch during which my name was spelled correctly on all envelopes arriving in the mail. And I've never been addressed as the familiar term for a handkerchief. That, of course, is actually written as 'hanky' or 'hankie.' Now I know: Hankey is also a surname.

Inside the envelope for Martha Hankey were promotion materials for Turkish cultural events. One of the cards, partially displayed above, bore a photograph of a Sufi whirling dervish, which, when laid on its side so that the dancer's garment flails nicely under 'Hankey,' allowed me to emphasize the aspects of textile shared by image and text. Neither the image nor the first line in the address on the envelope carrying the cards had been intended that way. In fact, the truth is that I have intentionally blocked out a significant part of the photograph, the part featuring a Flamenco dancer who stands observing the dervish, this representative of mystical Islam. They perform together; that's what this announcement is all about. If I wanted to I could be in the audience sometime this Spring.

I don’t think that would be a good idea, now that I have traded in the Flamenco dancer dimension for the concept of being an elegant fold of cloth; silk, if possible, beautifully folded, easily accessible. But that might be too passive for the dervish aims at stake - why not take the sophisticated softness along as an ally? Spraying the handkerchief with an elusive scent, or wrapping it around a potent substance before tucking it into my evening bag could be an option. Anything to enhance the audience experience.

The 'whirling dervishes' enhance their spiritual poise by whirling in devotion to God. Another order of dervishes worships in a mode which can cause alarm among onlookers: they used to link arms, then violently move head and torso back and forth, moaning and crying out, until they threw themselves forward onto snakes or swords. Nowadays, they might sit in the presence of a Master, stabbing or burning themselves, to prove their devotion. This was their ritual prayer; these people are called ‘howling dervishes’ [Please do now see 'Name as Gerund, ' January 21, 2008, if you haven’t already].

By the way, alarmed onlookers have been there in great numbers for centuries, as both the whirlers and the howlers have always ‘performed’ their ritual prayer in public.