Amy Lu's View

I can easily fall prey to expecting the worst. Overall, I think I’m an optimistic person, but I can get wrapped up in What Ifs–as in “What if this awful or annoying or stupid thing happens?”

I was certainly on the What If Express recently after our server gave our credit card to another couple. Yes, we actually ventured out in the world and saw a fabulous concert by some of our favorite musicians (Dan Chouinard and Prudence Johnson) at one of our favorite local establishments (Crooners Supper Club).

We had a truly lovely, and hell, I’ll even admit it, romantic evening. Fabulous music was heard, tasty food was consumed, festive drinks were imbibed, and sentimental emotions were felt.

But things took an abrupt turn when we realized our server had given our credit card to another patron, who had already left the premises.

I don’t want or need this to be a rant against our server or Crooners. We all make mistakes and I’m certain he did the best he could. We adore Crooners and are looking forward to going there frequently if Covid hopefully stays relatively quiet.

However, I did get pretty snippy when our server said “you’ll just have to cancel your card.”

I still can’t think of a way to respond to that suggestion that is close to PG-13. Just cancel our card?! JUST CANCEL OUR CARD?! Yes, it is a signifier of our cushy life but we have SO many services and subscriptions connected to that credit card. Canceling that card would be a huge pain in the ass.

But we had to cancel our card, right? We had no choice, right? I mean, WHAT IF our server gave our credit card to an elderly drug cartel kingpin (we were definitely among the youngest people at this concert) who decided to use our card to fund a weekend of debauchery? Or WHAT IF our card was now in the hands of someone with an Amazon addiction? Or what if it was given to someone well-meaning but clueless who dropped it in a snowbank, and THEN it was picked up by a drug cartel kingpin…

The disastrous scenarios felt endless, but surprisingly, I was able to silence the catastrophe script room long enough to consider that the folks who got our card would probably realize it when they got home, and furthermore, they would probably want to return to Crooners to get their card.

Unfortunately, we didn’t have a way to get in touch with the current owners of our card. I made sure Crooners had our contact information, but that was all we could do.

We had a decision to make: Did we go ahead and immediately cancel our card, or did we wait and hope for a good outcome?

I had to fight against my instincts, but we decided to be hopeful and wait…at least for a day or so. It was a rather restless night for me, but Hallelujah, the next morning we learned that the folks who had our credit card contacted Crooners and said they did indeed plan to return it…but they were going out of town for a few days.

So, more waiting. More trusting.

Last night we got our credit card back. I am so relieved and thankful and heartened that we were able to trust in strangers to return our card. Now, this trusting was made easier because we could easily check our card balance while our card was out of direct possession and make sure that there weren’t any suspicious charges on it.

We also found it easier to be more trusting than we, or at least I, would normally be because we felt a kinship with our fellow Crooner’s audience members. That’s one of the things we love most about Crooners–the community of music lovers it brings together. Even if we didn’t know who had our card, we felt like we knew them in a sense and that our shared love of the music of Crooners created a connection with them.

And yes, I’ll admit, all my jokes about elderly drug kingpins aside, we were more inclined to trust the people with our card because we assumed they were senior citizens. A completely unfounded stereotype–I wouldn’t trust senior citizen Donald Trump with our credit card–but there you go.

In an attempt to lessen the tediousness of this tale, I’ve omitted descriptions of all the frustrating communications (or non-communications) between me and Crooners. (Chad thinks I’m being too critical of them, and yes, the staff we talked to were always very apologetic and polite and we did get some free drinks for our trouble).

I don’t think I was/am overly critical, but my storytelling would be amiss if I didn’t mention that I did share some overly dramatic communication (via email and voicemail) with them.

I sent them an email with this gem: “I can’t overestimate how much anxiety this is causing us. Our Discover card which you gave away is automatically set up to pay EVERYTHING for us so we will have to spend countless hours trying to cancel and reinstate payment.”

Hmmm, I think I meant to say “overstate” rather than “overestimate,” but hey, festive beverages HAD been consumed at the concert. And yeah, capital letters is never a good look. Chad also took issue with “countless” hours but I stand by that because I am really not good at math.

I stand by my overwroughtness, though…it’s very on brand for me. I have a tradition to maintain. Before we were even married (so in the days before email) I sent the Columbia House Music Club a very strongly worded letter about how they had morally offended me with their terrible customer service (I don’t remember the specifics of their crime). I DO remember that I signed Chad’s name–something he did not appreciate (hey, the club membership was in his name).

At least this time I owned my dramatic customer service correspondence and left Chad out of it.