F*** Chase 666

Somewhere in the fine print of the credit card agreement is a clause that restricts the use of sexual references mixed with demonic numerals.  When it comes to personal passwords, apparently credit card companies can suspend you from their websites.

Several years ago I applied for a Visa Chase card.  I didn’t think my credit would clear, but I had an ulterior motive … I wanted the free clock.

I signed my name on the application form, took home my clock and three weeks later; much to my shock; a credit card with my name arrived in the mail.

As with my other bills, I signed up to pay online.  Rather than writing a check, I like the ease of hitting the return key on my MacBook Pro.  However, I ran into a problem when I tried to pay the Chase bill: their system never recognized my computer.

Each month I had to take additional steps to confirm my identity.   A process that included:

1.     An attempt to log in.
2.     A request for a “one-time” security code.
3.     Checking my e-mail.
4.     Obtaining my code.
5.     A second attempt to log in with the security code.
6.     Finally, logging in.
7.     Changing my password.
8.     Paying my bill.

After several months, I became annoyed at this process.  Out of anger I typed “F-U-C-K-C-H-A-S-E-6-6-6.”  I knocked the 6-key off the keyboard.

I moved onto step 8 and paid my bill.

The next month when I tried to log in I received a new message.  Chase suspended me from their website.

To reset my account I had to call a 1-800 number.  I didn’t recognize this step.  I made the call:

“Thank you for holding.  How may I help you?”

“Yes, I received a message that I’ve been suspended from my account and I need to reset it.”

I gave her my name, account number, last four digits of my social security number, address, vile of blood and a pygmy goat.

“Your account has been reset.”

“Why was I locked out?”

“You were locked out because of your password.”

“What password?”

“The password on your account.”

“What’s wrong with my password?  I mean, it is my password.”

“You can’t use vulgarity in your passwords.”

“But, it’s my password.  It should be whatever I want it to be.”

“We don’t allow vulgar words.”

“Something must be wrong, that sounds nothing like me.”

It sounds completely like me.

“I don’t remember the password.  Could you tell me what it was?”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

“I want to make sure I never use it again.”

“I’ve reset your account.  You can log in and change the password.”

“I’m scared.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m scared.”

“Of what?”

“Of using the same password.  I need to write it down for my records.  If you could remind me of what it was, I’ll make a new list in my password spreadsheet called ‘don’t use these.’”

“Your account has been reset.”

“You’re not going to tell me?”

“No.”

“Ok, fine.  But I have to warn you that I have self-diagnosed Tourette Syndrome and I will not accept responsibility for the actions of my fingers.”

“Is there anything I can help you with?”

“No.  I’m good.”

“You have a nice day.”

Click.

The operator never said, “F*** Chase 666,” but there’s always next month.

My new password?  Up Yours 69.

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