Wednesday, June 23, 2010

Hey Nimrod, Stop Pre-Authorizing My Card...

Spent another weekend in magical Bethany Beach last week and somehow ended up at Fager's in Ocean City two nights in a row - totally unnecessary. As a result of the shenanigans at what is easily one of the most 'white-trash-people-per-capita' locations on the East coast, my ladies and I found ourselves the next day with a hankering for some dirty, dirty food. As luck would have it, the mecca that is 'Boardwalk Fries' was walking distance from our beach towels and we were able to satiate our need for grease around mid-afternoon.

In my opinion, if you're going to shovel processed meat and starch down your gullet, either go big or GTFOOH. In this vain, the three of us all ordered the "chicken lunch" - but this is no ordinary lunch special, this baby is two delicious chicken tenders on top of french fries all neatly packed into...... a sand bucket (complete with a tiny little shovel). I couldn't have been happier.

So, I order my chicken bucket of dreams and hand my debit card over to slackjawed Scully behind the register and he proceeds to run my card over, and over, and over, and over, and over, AND OVER AGAIN. "It's not werkin!" He exclaimed. "QUIT DOING THAT!" I replied. I watched in horror as he continued to swipe my card but was somewhat relieved when only one receipt printed out - whew, crisis averted right? Um no. So wrong.

I get home on Sunday night and I'm too deliriously tired to pick up the computer to check my bank statement, so bright and early Monday morning I check the old account and BLAMMO, that moron pre-authorized $150 worth of Boardwalk Fries to my checking account. Are you f-ing kidding me? I won't even let myself buy a dress without it being on sale and using a coupon code, do you really think I'm going to drop $150 on chicken-in-a-bucket?!!? I took a deep breath and just allowed myself to think positively that perhaps the charges would go away - no such luck. Sure enough, more than $70 worth of greasy beach shame posted to my account.

In an effort to avoid the whole 'disputing the charges' debacle that ultimately ensues from this type of nonsense, I tried calling the Bethany Beach Boardwalk Fries. You know who I spoke to? A man named Frank, who assured me that he did not in fact work at Boardwalk Fries and that he has had his phone number for more than two years (thanks for NOTHING Google search). So I emailed the corporate office. A lady named "Pat" informed me that the Bethany shop is not corporately owned and that I would have to get in touch with the franchise owner named George who I ended up leaving four voicemails, I have yet to hear from this "George" who must be one of the richest people on the planet because charging people $10.45 for chicken and ice tea is absolutely ridiculous.

Cut to me calling my bank this morning:

*S* - "Oh yes, good morning, I need to dispute some of the charges on my debit card."
Teller - "Let me transfer you."
Manager - "What can I do for you today?"
*S* - "Unfortunately I need to dispute some of the charges on my debit card, the account number is ____ and the charges are all for $10.45.
..........I hear the manager type, type, typing away, and then, I hear him SNICKERING.
Manager - "I believe I see the charge that you are talking about."
Manager - .....cannot stop laughing.....
*S* - "This is so embarrassing."
Manager - "I'm sorry, but you'll have to come into the branch and sign an affidavit saying that you were overcharged."


Needless to say, I put on the biggest sunglasses I own and strolled into the Burke and Herbert this afternoon to get this whole mess straightened out. Moral of the story: Fast food kills. Not only does it kill your body, but it kills your bank account and in this case, your self-esteem too.

But you know what? I really can't wait to get another one of those lunch buckets when I'm back at the beach - but I think I'll pay cash this time.

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