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Meet the Columnist

Columnist, Sheila Moss, is humor writer from  Tennessee. She writes  a weekly human interest column about daily life and the funny things that happen to everyone.

   She has written for  the Daily News of Kingsport,   Griffin Journal, Oakridge Now, Atlanta Woman Magazine, Aberdeen Examiner, Angleton Advocate,  and Smyrna AM, a supplement of the Murfreesboro Daily News Journal. She has been published by Voyageur Press, McGraw Hill, and the good folks at Guidepost Books.  Her articles have appeared in numerous anthologies and other publications, both in print and online.

    She is a former board member and past  Editor of  the Columnists.com, website of  the National Society of Newspaper Columnists, the oldest and largest professional organization for columnists. She is the Web Editor of Southern
Humorists.com
  and  a founder of the Southern Humorists writers' organization. She is writer, editor, and webmaster of HumorColumnist.com

    To carry her weekly column in your newspaper, or to republish an article, please contact her. It's that easy. 

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Credit Card Caper....
 


The Credit Card Caper

If you read my column on a regular basis, you will recall that I was shopping for a pair of navy pants a few weeks ago and ended up buying everything else in the store, but no pants. Not easily discouraged, I decided to check out a different store.

I decided I would give SteinMart a try, name brands, low prices. This time I was determined to have tunnel vision and look only for what I came for, namely navy pants. Like at most stores, I found black pants, all styles all sizes, but no navy.

But wait! What is that? Can it be? Yes, a pair of navy pants, just the kind I am looking for!

Still in shoppers' shock, I went to the ladies dressing room to try them. They fit perfectly and were exactly the right price as well. It was a good day for shopping.

I went to the cash register looking neither left nor right to avoid being side-tracked. Out of the corner of my eye I could see all sorts of fashionable temptations, but I don't need any more clothes.

Excited to find something at exactly the right price, exactly the right size, and exactly the right color, I handed the item over to the cashier ready to pay and get out of this den of fashion before I weakened.

"Would you like to open a charge account and get a 10% discount?" she asked.

Now, I really didn't need a charge card. I only came here today because I couldn't find what I wanted elsewhere. But a discount is a discount.

"Okay, I replied, "What do I need to do?"

"I just need your driver's license," she said, "And your social security number." In a flash I had applied for a credit card and got the discount, paying even less than I expected. It was a very good day.

"Your card will come in the mail" she said.

"Yes, and I will cut it up and throw it away" I thought silently to myself. I only wanted the discount.

A few days later the letter came from SteinMart. "Your request was reviewed and denied for the following reason: Credit Bureau reports applicant is deceased."

I'm deceased? I don't think so. I feel just fine or did until I got this letter.

"If you feel there is an error in your credit report, please contact the consumer reporting agency."

If it isn't one thing, it's another. But I suppose I need to call and see if I can get this mess straightened out. Wonder how you prove you are alive?

I called the credit agency and tried to talk to someone. All I got was the usual maze of "push this number, push that number" until I was hopelessly lost. None of the choices said anything about a number to push if you are dead. Finally, I gave up. At least one of the recordings gave me the address to write to them and report an error.

I suppose they thought an identity thief was trying to open a card in my name. "How can I steal my own identity?" I wondered. I don't care about the credit card, but sometime down the road I might need to verify I'm credit worthy.

I hate being dead.

Maybe I'm a ghost? If I am, I plan to haunt SteinMart. What am I supposed to do? I've never been dead before.

If I had known I was deceased, I would not have worried so much about navy pants.

I'm sure I will get this straightened out sooner or later. Maybe if I write them often enough, they will figure out that dead people don't write letters.

I've heard of shopping till you drop, but I didn't know they meant till you drop dead.

 


Copyright 2015 Sheila Moss
 
 



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