An Open Letter

Dear [Every credit card or MTA hotline I have called],

I would like to get my money back. You charged my card and took my money but I got nothing. NOTHING. Oh, you need details- got 'em. I got the transaction time down to the second. I have the terminal ID and color. I have the name of the bag lady who asked me for change before the transaction. I know what the temperature and pressure were at the time. I know your name, the name of your dog and yes, I know the size of your mother's panties. She's ugly but kind of fun in the sack.

Yes, I'll hold.

No problem I just- ok, I'll hold.

Sure, no problem. Yes, It is P-a-n-t-s D-i-s-p-e-n-s-e-r. Yes, I'll hold.

Oh, ok. So, what's up? Three weeks? Are you serious? What happened to zero fraud liability? What happened to the networked economy and the digital revolution? This is my money! It was taken out of my paycheck so I could use it on approved goods and services and now you are ruining my game plan. You're fucking up my Christmas! You fuck stick. Eat me. Eat my ass. Suck a Wesley Willis album sideways.

No, I'm not mad at you, just the faceless machine you represent. I'm sorry I cursed. Please just hurry.