Forgotten Sleep

Dear Credit Card Thief,

Merry Christmas! Oh, wait, that’s not what I wanted to say. You suck. Yes, that’s what I meant.

I don’t know who you are (though I am suspicious that you work for Bouncy Inflatable Tiki Hut), but I’d like to find you and give you a truly heart-felt thank you for making me stand at the check-out desk at the spa the other day and talk to the credit card representative for 15 minutes while I attempted to straighten out the mess you’ve created.

I’d like to thank you for using my credit card number for things I wouldn’t purchase, like phone cards and the like. I’d like to thank you for forcing me to shut down my credit card account at Christmas. I’d like to thank you for leaving me without a credit card for a week period.

Yes, this little selfless gesture of yours has really made my life so much easier.

I doubt my bank will catch you, but if they do, I’d like to inflict my own brand of justice. Regardless of whether you took very little from me, I’m angry on principle. That was my credit card number, not yours, and I didn’t give you permission to use it. You really are a ding-dong if you didn’t think that charging $2 to a credit card would send up a red flag. Are you a novice at this? You are, most certainly, on Santa’s Naughty List.

Anyway, I just thought I would write to let you know that I’m on to you. And, if you’re identified, I’m coming for you. So, Happy Holidays.

Oh, one more thing—bite me.