It should have been a simple process.
When I came to the page in my checkbook reminding me it was time to reorder new ones, I simply got online, went to my banking site and clicked the reorder button.
When asked for a shipping address, I was about to type in my home address, but I got to thinking. Since the last order in 2014, there had been a few package thefts in the neighborhood. I decided I would simply have the package delivered to school, where it would either be delivered directly to the office, or to our locked box near the school’s entrance. A much safer option than having them left on my stoop.
Within 24-hours, I had an email announcing my success.
Within a week, I had a letter from my bank asking me to call them about the order.
I called, curious as to what the issue might be, and spoke with a very nice young man, who dug deep and found my order. He asked me to verify my address. Check. He asked me to verify my shipping address. And here was the problem. The shipping address didn’t match. Weird.
My brain erupted in a fury of synapse firing. What had I entered for address? And then it hit me. My “new” school where I have been for almost 2 years, is on a street whose name begins with an L. So was my old school. So, I gave him a new address: my “new” school number with my “old” school street. BINGO!
I’ve made this mistake before, but had always caught it. This time, apparently, I missed it. The young man was now able to fix my order. As he worked we chatted about middle school. He told me I wouldn’t have enjoyed having him in my class. He also told me he was a veteran and had just been accepted into a university program to finish a degree he had started a while ago. It was a lovely conversation. In a matter of minutes, my problem was solved and we said good-bye. I wished him luck and success as he started down his new path. With any luck, I will have my new checks in a week and a never make that mistake again.
booksandbassets 