Saturday, October 12, 2002

So I go into my favorite French store (Virgin Records), and buy some CDs by my favorite French recording artists (the Stones and XTC), take my purchases to the cashier and hand over a Visa card, which as well all know from the television commercials, is accepted more places around the world than any other card. That includes the Virgin across from the Grands Boulevards Metro stop, as I had demonstrated the day before.

But not today. And neither is my other Visa card. (I have a third, too, but that's actually a debit card, and since I'm temporarily carrying the mortgage payment on a Georgetown condo and the rent on a Montmartre studio, it's not like I actually have money, so I'm not about to use that one.)

I pay cash, which is not so painful because it all looks like Monopoly money, anyway, and if I'm not mistaken the two forms of currency even come in corresponding colors: The 50-euro bill, for example, is the same warm goldenrod as the 500-dollar bill in Monopoly. (Yes, I realize this perception is likely to get me in trouble in short order. "Garçon! Another drink for my friend with the little poodle, and one for mon ami in the top hat, too.")

The issuers of both the Visa cards have web sites. One site, I find, has locked me out, and the screen advises me to call an 800 number to get this resolved. Which would not be a problem if I were in the United States, but overseas an 800 number won't work. So I e-mail a friend back home to call the toll-free number and ask for another number I can call. (This never happens to the fit, tanned couples in the Visa commercials.)

Checking the web site of the other card issuer, I see a mysterious charge for $29. "Declined check," it says. Declined by whom? Did I somehow bounce a check I sent in payment? No.... I consult my credit union's web site, and find I still have a few sous left. Did the card company decline to honor a "convenience check" I wrote? Perhaps.

This site has a feature whereby you can send a query on your account. This I do, asking for an explanation of the following entry:

10/04/2002 Sale Declined Check # 3048 (Services and Merchandise) F573200M5000Q2277 $29.00

Almost immediately, I get an automated reply that reads: "Our goal is to provide our customers and applicants with the highest quality service. Our credit card products are created to meet the needs of our Cardmembers and the changing world in which we live. We expect to provide you with an answer by e-mail within 48 hours."

Just about 48 hours later, I receive the following, presented here in its useless entirety:

"Dear Mark J. McGarry:

"As a leader in the credit card industry, we are committed to providing innovative products and superior customer service. We appreciate your interest.

"This is to inform you that the $29.00 is for a declined check.

"If you have any questions or if we can help in any other way, please call us at the toll-free number listed below. We're here 24 hours a day to serve your credit card needs."

No, mes amis, you are not mistaken. It took them 48 hours to ponder my question and come to the conclusion that the entry "declined check" means "declined check."

This company does have a number for customers who, poor souls, are overseas. I called it and spoke to a perfectly pleasant-sounded human being who explained that, yes, a "convenience check" I had written had not been honored. She went on to explain that the only way a check would be declined is if I had insufficient credit or the account was closed.

"You can see from your records that neither of those conditions is true," I said.

So she checked. And the account was closed.

She kindly asked if she could transfer me to the security department (they always ask; I don't know why), and the perfectly pleasant human being there explained that Visa's computers had seen a charge from France Telecom on my account and promptly shut it down for "suspicious activity." At the time, I did not note the irony that that purchase no doubt was of the phone card I was at this moment using to call the card company.

"Excuse me," I said, "isn't Visa the company that says the card is welcome the world over?" (I did not add: "I guess that means, 'You're welcome to try to use it, bub.' ")

"We did send you an e-mail about this," she says in a perfectly pleasant tone.

"When?"

"I see an e-mail on October 9," she says.

"Which would be five days after you declined the check, and five-plus days after you closed my account." Then I conveyed the substance of the e-mail they sent, actually using the word "duh."

She reactivated my account. But I have to call back in three business days to ask for the $29 charge to be lifted, since it is not actually there, it is "pending."

Same story at the other credit card company. So the lesson is, if you're going to travel, be sure to let your mom and the Postal Service know, and the credit card companies, too. In fact, the next time you're going to go on vacation, I urge you to call your least-favorite card company and say to the first person you get, "Hey, pal, I'm going overseas for a bit. Just wanted to let you know."

© copyright 2003 Mark J. McGarry