Your Hard Working Tax Dollars

Last night, on the way home from work, I pulled off the Bountiful exit and made it to Costco just minutes before closing. In my High Definition delirium, I loaded a 50" plasma TV onto the cart and wheeled it to the registers. We sold our 42" before moving to Wyoming (3 months ago) and they are finally paying us. Alas, my eyes were bigger than my wallet.

No matter, I approached the cashier with my Platinum card in hand and wrist poised for swiping.

"We only take American Express," she tells me.

I laugh, thinking she must be joking. After all, what modern-day corporation refuses Visa? She didn't laugh back.

Sheepishly, I extract my debit card and make the purchase - more money is on the way soon and I've beat transactions before.

So, this morning, I call the bank and tell them that it probably time for me to boost the line of credit on our debit card as a temporary solution. To my great astonishment, I discover that there is a new item on my credit report from The Utah District Court.

I think back, wondering if I have been arrested at some point without my knowledge. This random memory skimming leaves the net empty. "What now?" I ask them.

Four hours and seven phone numbers later, I am told that the item on my credit report is for a Daniel Lawrence Workman out of Ogden. Our Social Security Numbers are not even remotely similar. Our birthdays are off by 25 months. Our names are easily discernible.

"How exactly does the court decide to report something HE owes on MY credit?" I ask the woman on the phone at the court. I am working to conceal the intense disdain in my voice and failing miserably.

"I don't know!" she replies with a voice devoid of empathy or decency. "You can come pick up a copy of the papers and request a hearing if you have a problem with it."

Yes, disgruntled and under-qualified government employee, that is exactly what I am going to do. I cannot wait for the opportunity to trudge through your lines and deal with your equally sunny co-workers. It makes sense that it would be my responsibility to gather paperwork, schedule a hearing, make multiple trips to you so I can meet with a city judge and have him/her tell me how "unfortunate" the error was while directing the bailiff to send in the next case to dismiss.

So, I guess this is one of those instances where you might thank your parents for giving you a unique name. You never know when some genius is going to pull your information and think, "Well, that's close enough."