Dog Bites Man

I had a voice mail today from my credit card’s fraud prevention department, asking me to call back immediately.  Although a quick Google search suggested authenticity, I called the number on my card instead but got routed to Fraud Prevention the moment I entered my card number.

My first thought was that the expensive Vegas vacation I recently charged got their attention.  I did spend quite a bit of money in about 30 minutes.  But that was last month, so I’ve already paid that balance in full.  An inattentive cardholder might pay for a stolen $10 lunch without realizing it, but only a complete idiot (or someone impractically rich) would unwittingly pay off someone else’s entire vacation.

Then I recognized a coincidental string of PayPal purchases all on one day last week.  They were all small purchases from online stores, but perhaps such a sudden burst of PayPal (or other peer-to-peer payment) activity had been seen as a red flag.

That was my most promising theory when I dialed the phone.  The nice man in India confirmed what had really gotten the bank’s (computer’s) attention: a single online purchase from Peapod last week for a little over $100.

Peapod.

You know… Peapod.

Peapod!

An online charge from Peapod for about $100 has appeared on my statement at the beginning of every month I’ve ever used this card!  After Netflix, it’s the second most routine transaction on my entire statement.

I appreciate that the algorithms used to detect possible fraud are sophisticated and beyond the comprehension of mere mortals, but that was a little absurd.  When I thought the bank had picked up on some legitimately unusual account activity, I was pleased with their efforts.  Knowing that they’re just flagging my everyday spending, I’m rather less pleased but vastly more amused.

Tall! Decaf! Cappuccino!

What I want:

Coffee with Splenda

What I have to order:

Small regular hot coffee with one Splenda, no cream, no sugar to go

What I then invariably have to clarify immediately after ordering:

Clerk: Small regular coffee?
Me
: Yes.

Clerk: Cream and sugar?
Me
:  No.  One Splenda.

Clerk:  No cream?
Me
: No.

Clerk: Iced coffee?
Me
:  No.  Hot.

Clerk: Small hot coffee?
Me
: Yes.

Clerk: Here or to go?
Me: To go.

I’ve never — not once — successfully ordered coffee at Dunkin Donuts in fewer than ten steps.  And (I say at the risk of defending their fans) it’s terrible coffee.  (The machine in my building broke, and I didn’t feel like walking all the way over to Starbucks.)

As Tom Hanks puts it in You’ve Got Mail:

The whole purpose of places like Starbucks is for people with no decision-making ability whatsoever to make six decisions just to buy one cup of coffee. Short / tall, light / dark, caf / decaf, low-fat / non-fat, et cetera.  So people who don’t know what the hell they’re doing or who on earth they are can, for only $2.95, get not just a cup of coffee but an absolutely defining sense of self: Tall! Decaf! Cappuccino!