The morning after we return home I’m on the phone with the bank for a long time. The man at the other end is explaining to me why the new card I just received has already been cancelled.
“There was a suspicious transaction on Saturday,” he says.
“But I didn’t even get the card until today,” I say. “How could someone know the number before I did?”
I listen to his explanation until it starts to sound less like something that might be the bank’s fault, and more like something that could be my fault, after which I lose interest.
“We’ll send you a replacement card,” he says.
“A replacement replacement card,” I say.
“Yes,”
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