all images © Meghan Boyer Photography

Saturday, December 10, 2011

Welcome Filiberto!

I get online this morning to manage the kids' savings accounts.  I'm patting myself on the back for being so highly organized (anal and controlling) and pull out my handy dandy notebook.  A slip of paper contains all the information I need.  My account number, customer ID, identifying image, and three word phrase that corresponds to the image.  I also have the answers to my four security questions.  Because really...who can remember which response they gave for 'What color did you paint your big toe on the second Wednesday of the month, in March of '87?'  For each child I have a customer number, account number, and pin.  I'm a little confused as to why I have a customer ID and not a customer number like the kids and why I have no pin.  But whatever.  Obviously these bank people know things.

Sorry kids, you can't go to college because mommy can't remember whether she chose a dartboard or a tulip for the super secret image or if she picked 'shoot me now' or 'shoot me later' for the corresponding phrase. But that's okay right? I'm sure the nice lady at the bank will give you a free lollipop for your generous donation. She may even let you pick the color. Lil...pop-pop always said you'd grow up to be a pole dancer right?  Now is your opportunity!  Isn't this great?  Don't look at me like I'm stupid!  Do you remember what color shoes Dora was wearing on episode 987?  The one you watched on Saturday, December 10th, 2011?  Ha!  It's a trick question! Dora always wears the same shoes!  Nanny nanny boo boo!

The login pops up and I enter my account number.  The next screen reads  'Welcome Filiberto!'  I double check my paper to make sure there wasn't an alias option...nope, didn't write it down.  Hmmm, I go back and start over.  This time I punch the numbers extra hard.  Didn't punch hard enough.  It still shows 'Welcome Filiberto!' and it continues 'If you are not Filiberto, pat your head and rub your belly and call 1-800-you're-a-loser.'   I call the number.  I tell my very nice customer service representative about my predicament.  She tells me she will put me on hold and when I hear the beep to enter my pin.  Well I don't have a pin!  She says I have three tries.  Or what, the phone explodes?  I don't know, so I give it my best shot.  No luck.  I am completely unable to guess a random six to ten digit number.  She gets back on the phone.  She ask me to enter what I have written down as my account number.   It works, it works!  I win!  I'm the winner! I AM IN!  I want to jump through the phone and make out with her.  It turns out what I thought was my account number is actually my pin! I totally wrote something down wrong...I'm not anal and controlling after all!  So long Filiberto!

Now, she says, comes the next step.  That other number I have, the customer ID?   Well now I get to go back and swap that out for a SAVER ID.  So now I won't need to remember the customer ID because I can make up my own, really easy Saver ID?  Oh no, no, no.  I'll still have my customer ID but now I'll have a Saver ID TOO!...Isn't that exciting?

Bank lady would like to help me start a 'grown up' account.   Well sure but I'd like to close my savings account with my other bank first.  You think I can do that online or over the phone?  She recommends I go right to the bank and take care of it in person.  You are right...they are sure to close my account when I roll in with the triple threat.  I'll be lucky if I can fit through the door with my double wide stroller.  I will be saving them by kindly vacating their premises.  They will probably throw in an extra twenty bucks if I switch.  At this point Grady is squealing for me to locate his beloved blankie and Lillian yells from the bathroom, "Mooooom, can you come wipe me?"  I think nice service represenative lady is done with me.  "Thank you again for choosing our bank...have I answered all of your questions today?"  Actually no, 'What was the name of your best friend's favorite animal's best friend when you lived on that street named after your mother's brother?'


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