Lincoln TrudeauMY ADDRESSMY CITY, PROVINCEMY COUNTRY/POSTAL CODEMonday, Oct. 16, 1995MasterCard Customer Service
P.O. Box 5268
London, Ontario
N6A 5H5
To Whoever Wasted My Time,
Hello. I suppose I could have begun with the more formal, pleasant and customary greeting "To Whom This May Concern", but then I thought: no, wait, that just doesn't get my feelings across accurately enough. Thus the usage of the heading "To Whoever Wasted My Time."
And be assured, you have wasted my time. I mean, I did not run all over the place seeking out a credit card, nor shall I ever. The idea of using money I don't have to buy things I don't want seems silly and dangerous. Let me explain what really happened.
It was a lovely sunny day in early September, a Wednesday if I'm not mistaken. Two days after Labour Day -- so yes, it was Wednesday -- in 1994. I was one of the frosh in Ryerson's Journalism program, aimlessly walking around while trying to maintain a certain mood about me that suggested I knew exactly where I was going.
Inevitably, I ended up at the Edge Pub at Ryerson where everyone tried to give me buttons supporting causes I did not understand, haircuts (yes, haircuts, I would NOT fabricate this) and, of course, credit cards, the bastard offspring of capitalism.
I, of course, think credit cards are right up there with television and dishwashers on the big list of Things for the Gullible Freaks But Not Me. But then my eye caught a CD-rack. And it was said to be free -- but only if I signed up for a credit card. A pox upon the makers of that shoddy chunk of moulded plastic that passes for a storage facility for compact discs! It is very awkward to use. I don't even use it anymore. I don't know what I've done with it. Probably in a garbage somewhere. Or maybe it's under my dresser. Yeah, like I'm gonna check.
A few weeks later in the mail, I received my Canada Trust MasterCard. I thought to myself, "Wow. It looks kind of neat." Then I remembered its diabolical purpose and I reached for my handy-dandy shears, courtesy of Cutco knives.
Those are damn good shears by the way -- they split in two for easy cleaning and I'd be happy to part with them for only $60 -- they retail at $85. They're made of surgical steel I believe and they can even cut a penny into the shape of a corkscrew. A penny! Isn't that just the neatest thing? Isn't that wild? I mean, a penny -- that ends up like a corkscrew! Think of the possibilities. Your kids would be thrilled. If you don't have kids, get some just so they can be thrilled. Sometimes you gotta wonder why it's illegal to cut money, you really do. Lord only knows the technological marvels we're missing out on due to the obnoxious laws in this country.
Anyways, so yeah, I proceeded to slice my MasterCard length-wise (actually, I think I cut it diagonally because I wanted to sever that magnetic strip completely) several times. And then I reached for a nearby lighter and incinerated a few portions.
Actually, since you're customer service, I have some complaints. First of all, your cards are not easy to cut. In future, I suggest a design that is more "cuttable", more scissors-friendly, if you will. And it bends too much too. So please attempt a design that is less flexible. Maybe a more brittle card would solve your problems. Yes, that's right, I said brittle. Do I look like I'm joking?
Furthermore, in the process of incinerating portions of my severed MasterCard (which did NOT burn quickly either -- I mean, I lost easily an hour's sleep waiting for that thing to melt), I inhaled some fumes which I suspect are toxic. Please make future versions of your cards with non-toxic fumes. And the fumes didn't do a thing for me either, so please make cards that produce fumes which will induce hallucinations or at the very least, a general feeling of wellness. I'm not asking for much.
Now that my tale has been told, I must bring to your attention something: based on the literature you provided me with, it seemed that unless I used my card at least once, I would never be billed for it. Well I never have for reasons which should now be smacking you in the face.
And now, well lookee here: you have the audacity, the gall, the...the NERVE to charge me eight dollars for not using the card. What the hell for? Maintenance fees? What did you have to maintain? I destroyed the card myself and I disposed of it myself -- you had nothing to do with that. Am I being billed for the privilege of being kept on file for a year? Ooh la la. Isn't that just snazzy?
How ironic too, that I've been misled by a Canada Trust MasterCard. I guess in the term Canada Trust, "Trust" is not the operative word, IS IT?
I think it's clear that I want to cancel (am I mistaken?). I thought my destruction of my card was a clear enough signal, but sadly not. I'm not paying you a penny for this card. Not even a penny that's been cut to look like a corkscrew. No way.
You want your money? C'mon over, we'll do lunch. On me. Actually, wait a second. You'd better pick some real hole to eat at. Better not be some fancy-ass restaurant. I've got no time for that nonsense. My budget is limited. Actually, cancel the lunch. Buy your own. You managed to dream up the idea that I owe you eight dollars so I'm sure that if you walked into McDonalds and said they owed you a Big Mac Combo, some freak there would be foolish enough to give you one. But not me.
Anyways, there's nothing more to say. I would yell, but I reserve my hatred for people who deserve it.
Sincerely,Lincoln TrudeauP.S. Actually, just one more technological breakthrough you might want to try, if you'll indulge me. Perhaps you could make a card where, if you destroy it, a small beeper inside the card will notify the credit card company and wipe out the file of the person who the card belonged to. No wait...but then if you destroyed it accidentally or if it was stolen, then...ok, never mind. Do your own research. I'm just trying to be helpful.
