Identity Theft Is Funny When It Happens to You
You refused to put in a change-of-address form when you moved out. Not forgot, refused. So for a year I acted like the diligent ex-girlfriend, collecting your mail and calling you to come pick it up. Three times you arrived, expressed shock at how much there was, and gave me "your word" that that would be the end of it. Three times I said, "What about a change-of-address form?" and you gave me three excuses. After a year, I got tired of summoning you, got tired of the ties to our past, and got tired of seeing your face. So, still the diligent ex, still overfunctioning, still afraid of looking bad, I took every piece of mail and labeled it "return to sender" and stuck it back in the mail. By the end of that year, I was just sick of dealing with your garbage. So from then on, I treated your mail like garbage; I collected it for a few months, stuffed it in a bag, and left it at a bus stop. I hear you've been the victim of identity theft. Huh, I wonder how that happened?