Punked
Last night I went dancing at Bar None. I had just purchased a fun silver clutch for $5 at a flea market that afternoon, and I was very excited about using it. It's small, so I just brought my id, cell phone, lip stick, house keys and money. I was short on cash so I also brought my debit card and stopped at the ATM for $20 on my way to the subway. We sat in a booth for a while, and all left our stuff piled in the corner when we went to dance. I left my new silver purse buried under all the coats. I know that was a stupid move, but we've done it a million times before at this bar without a problem. Silly Anne.
So after dealing with the usual suspects on the dance floor (creepy dudes and college kids who look about 17), I was ready to go. I opened my purse to check my phone or something and I notice that my money was gone. It was only $12, but that still meant that someone had been in my purse. Shit! After closer inspection, I noticed that my ATM card was missing. Fuck! I can't believe this. What am I going to do? At least they didn't take my driver's license, so they're not trying to steal my identity. (My cousin who lives here had her identity stolen a few years back, so it made me paranoid.) At least I didn't have my whole wallet.
Tina and her date had already taken off, so that left me with his two drunk friends. One gallantly offered to come home with me to help get things sorted out. I told him that was sweet, but he should know that that's all that would happen. I would go home and call the credit card company; he would sleep on the futon. He suddenly decided he should probably not let his buddy go all the way back to the Bronx alone. Gee, I wonder why.
So I trooped off to the subway, pissed as hell. At the joker who robbed me, at myself for not being smarter. I must have looked as upset as I felt, because on the subway platform a man carrying three Little Caesars boxes asked if I was OK. No, as a matter fact, I'm not. I told him what happened. Now what you gotta do, he said as he reached into a pocket of his cargo shorts and pulled out a packet of tobacco. You buy some of this and empty out the tobacco and keep your money and all that in there, just put a little tobacco back on top. And when people see that you smoke this brand, they'll assume you been Upstate and they ain't gonna mess with you. (I assume by Upstate he did not mean a trip to the Catskills, but something more like a trip to Sing Sing.) Hey, you hungry? he asked, offering me some of his pizza. Um, no thanks. And luckily that's when the train arrived.
I was in tears by the time I made it home. Life just sucks sometimes. I dug out my bank records and called the 800 number and reported my card stolen. So I got it taken care of pretty quickly, but not quickly enough. I went to the bank this morning to get a new card (way to be open on Sundays Commerce) and see if there had been any activity. The operator the night before hadn't been able to tell me. Turns out whoever took my card (I like to call them "those punk kids", but that makes me sound about 85.) spent $54 at Stuyvesant Convenience Store. So the way I see it, some drunk college kids took my $12 and my card, bought $54 worth of alcohol or cigarettes or cigarettes and alcohol, got even more drunk and passed out. They'll probably try to use the card again today, but the joke will be on them.
I filled out some fraud paperwork at the bank and should get credited for the $54. Really I guess I'm lucky because it could have been a lot worse; they could have spent more, gotten my whole wallet if I had it. If I don't get the credit from my bank, the most I'll be out is $66, and that's small change for credit fraud. And I'm going to be so much more careful from now on. I'll keep my money and id in my bra, and I'm definitely never bringing anything more than that. If I bring a purse, it will just have lipstick and my keys. That's it.
Last night I went dancing at Bar None. I had just purchased a fun silver clutch for $5 at a flea market that afternoon, and I was very excited about using it. It's small, so I just brought my id, cell phone, lip stick, house keys and money. I was short on cash so I also brought my debit card and stopped at the ATM for $20 on my way to the subway. We sat in a booth for a while, and all left our stuff piled in the corner when we went to dance. I left my new silver purse buried under all the coats. I know that was a stupid move, but we've done it a million times before at this bar without a problem. Silly Anne.
So after dealing with the usual suspects on the dance floor (creepy dudes and college kids who look about 17), I was ready to go. I opened my purse to check my phone or something and I notice that my money was gone. It was only $12, but that still meant that someone had been in my purse. Shit! After closer inspection, I noticed that my ATM card was missing. Fuck! I can't believe this. What am I going to do? At least they didn't take my driver's license, so they're not trying to steal my identity. (My cousin who lives here had her identity stolen a few years back, so it made me paranoid.) At least I didn't have my whole wallet.
Tina and her date had already taken off, so that left me with his two drunk friends. One gallantly offered to come home with me to help get things sorted out. I told him that was sweet, but he should know that that's all that would happen. I would go home and call the credit card company; he would sleep on the futon. He suddenly decided he should probably not let his buddy go all the way back to the Bronx alone. Gee, I wonder why.
So I trooped off to the subway, pissed as hell. At the joker who robbed me, at myself for not being smarter. I must have looked as upset as I felt, because on the subway platform a man carrying three Little Caesars boxes asked if I was OK. No, as a matter fact, I'm not. I told him what happened. Now what you gotta do, he said as he reached into a pocket of his cargo shorts and pulled out a packet of tobacco. You buy some of this and empty out the tobacco and keep your money and all that in there, just put a little tobacco back on top. And when people see that you smoke this brand, they'll assume you been Upstate and they ain't gonna mess with you. (I assume by Upstate he did not mean a trip to the Catskills, but something more like a trip to Sing Sing.) Hey, you hungry? he asked, offering me some of his pizza. Um, no thanks. And luckily that's when the train arrived.
I was in tears by the time I made it home. Life just sucks sometimes. I dug out my bank records and called the 800 number and reported my card stolen. So I got it taken care of pretty quickly, but not quickly enough. I went to the bank this morning to get a new card (way to be open on Sundays Commerce) and see if there had been any activity. The operator the night before hadn't been able to tell me. Turns out whoever took my card (I like to call them "those punk kids", but that makes me sound about 85.) spent $54 at Stuyvesant Convenience Store. So the way I see it, some drunk college kids took my $12 and my card, bought $54 worth of alcohol or cigarettes or cigarettes and alcohol, got even more drunk and passed out. They'll probably try to use the card again today, but the joke will be on them.
I filled out some fraud paperwork at the bank and should get credited for the $54. Really I guess I'm lucky because it could have been a lot worse; they could have spent more, gotten my whole wallet if I had it. If I don't get the credit from my bank, the most I'll be out is $66, and that's small change for credit fraud. And I'm going to be so much more careful from now on. I'll keep my money and id in my bra, and I'm definitely never bringing anything more than that. If I bring a purse, it will just have lipstick and my keys. That's it.
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