Credit Denied
I tend to live on plastic. I charge everything I can. I use cards with no annual fees and cash back features, and I never carry a balance or pay late. Except for not paying interest, I'm a "good customer."
So I'm always surprised when something seems to go wrong. Yesterday, something went wrong.
I went to the incomparable Russell Street Deli in Detroit's Eastern Market for lunch. I used to go there frequently when I worked within walking distance, but have only been rarely in recent times. They serve the best $3.95 soups money can buy (cash only). Eating lunch there -- even by myself, which was the case yesterday -- always makes me feel good. So, as I sometimes do after a lunch at Russell Street, I decided to roam the nearby shops.
First stop was to Germack. Germack is known for their pistachios, but what I love is their fresh-made peanut butter. A simple old-fashioned grinder, and they'll do it on the spot if there's none on the shelves. And it's less expensive than Jif. Germack just moved from a much smaller location outside Eastern Market; this was my first time in the new store. I pulled out my Mastercard, and for $3.50 I was on my way.
Next stop: Rocky Peanut. Another local institution that's the go-to place for spices and oils after the demise of Rafal Spice. I didn't really need anything, but the chocolate slab looked good, and for $3.84 and another swipe I had some.
I was headed back to the car now, but came upon a store I'd never seen before: Mootown Creamery. Well, that $3.95 garlic soup at Russell Street was great, but it left room. I had to check it out. A scoop of ice cream -- they sell Hudsonville, not homemade, but I wasn't caring yesterday -- cost $3.18 with tax. I pulled out my Mastercard.
Denied!!
The clerk was polite and apologetic. She said the machine acted weird when the weather was bad (there were flurries at the time). It gave her a weird message to call. We tried running the card again:
Denied!!
The clerk, apologizing more, served the ice cream anyway (I eventually paid with my Discover Card).
My surprises were just starting. When I checked my email, there was a message from HSBC Card Services Fraud Prevention Alert. Lori, arriving home at about the same time, was treated to multiple voice mails from HSBC, and before she could even check them, HSBC was calling again. They went through the charges and demanded she call me (she laughed at them, thanked them for spying on me for her, and refused). Then their representative "explained": Did your husband travel to Detroit? As if no one would do such a thing. As if my home in West Bloomfield is on a different planet, and not just 3 towns north. As if I wouldn't legitimately have a series of charges under four dollars in 3 stores that happen to be next to each other. As if a series of charges like that indicates that my card must have been stolen, apparently by a thief without much of a plan. Never mind, even, that I signed all of the receipts.
Yes, I work in Detroit. I'm there every day. Sometimes I go out for lunch, and when I'm at a place that doesn't take American Express, I used the HSBC Master Card. Or, used, anyway.
Now, it's tempting to assert that HSBC has some profiling going on. Or that they're just somewhat inept. I'll note that they also denied a routine $20 charge I made last year for Elianna's summer camp; that time they explained that the location (the camp is in Canada) was suspicious. But at least that was in a foreign country. Last I checked, Detroit's still here.
Elianna is having a nice dessert tonight: Chocolate. From a slab.
So I'm always surprised when something seems to go wrong. Yesterday, something went wrong.
I went to the incomparable Russell Street Deli in Detroit's Eastern Market for lunch. I used to go there frequently when I worked within walking distance, but have only been rarely in recent times. They serve the best $3.95 soups money can buy (cash only). Eating lunch there -- even by myself, which was the case yesterday -- always makes me feel good. So, as I sometimes do after a lunch at Russell Street, I decided to roam the nearby shops.
First stop was to Germack. Germack is known for their pistachios, but what I love is their fresh-made peanut butter. A simple old-fashioned grinder, and they'll do it on the spot if there's none on the shelves. And it's less expensive than Jif. Germack just moved from a much smaller location outside Eastern Market; this was my first time in the new store. I pulled out my Mastercard, and for $3.50 I was on my way.
Next stop: Rocky Peanut. Another local institution that's the go-to place for spices and oils after the demise of Rafal Spice. I didn't really need anything, but the chocolate slab looked good, and for $3.84 and another swipe I had some.
I was headed back to the car now, but came upon a store I'd never seen before: Mootown Creamery. Well, that $3.95 garlic soup at Russell Street was great, but it left room. I had to check it out. A scoop of ice cream -- they sell Hudsonville, not homemade, but I wasn't caring yesterday -- cost $3.18 with tax. I pulled out my Mastercard.
Denied!!
The clerk was polite and apologetic. She said the machine acted weird when the weather was bad (there were flurries at the time). It gave her a weird message to call. We tried running the card again:
Denied!!
The clerk, apologizing more, served the ice cream anyway (I eventually paid with my Discover Card).
My surprises were just starting. When I checked my email, there was a message from HSBC Card Services Fraud Prevention Alert. Lori, arriving home at about the same time, was treated to multiple voice mails from HSBC, and before she could even check them, HSBC was calling again. They went through the charges and demanded she call me (she laughed at them, thanked them for spying on me for her, and refused). Then their representative "explained": Did your husband travel to Detroit? As if no one would do such a thing. As if my home in West Bloomfield is on a different planet, and not just 3 towns north. As if I wouldn't legitimately have a series of charges under four dollars in 3 stores that happen to be next to each other. As if a series of charges like that indicates that my card must have been stolen, apparently by a thief without much of a plan. Never mind, even, that I signed all of the receipts.
Yes, I work in Detroit. I'm there every day. Sometimes I go out for lunch, and when I'm at a place that doesn't take American Express, I used the HSBC Master Card. Or, used, anyway.
Now, it's tempting to assert that HSBC has some profiling going on. Or that they're just somewhat inept. I'll note that they also denied a routine $20 charge I made last year for Elianna's summer camp; that time they explained that the location (the camp is in Canada) was suspicious. But at least that was in a foreign country. Last I checked, Detroit's still here.
Elianna is having a nice dessert tonight: Chocolate. From a slab.
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