What do you do when no one will listen to you? I don't know whether my blog is the right place for stuff like this, and I hope I don't bore my readers too much by posting mundane, personal material, but I decided to anyway because I am so irritated by a complete lack of any accountability anywhere that I figured, hey, I have a blog; maybe it's a more efficient way to voice my frustration.

So, to all who see what's coming and are already bored, my apologies. But if you are like most people, in your dealings with corporate bureaucracy you have been put on hold, asked meaningless questions, been lost in voicemail, and talked to "supervisors" who have no power to do anything at all. Who knows; maybe this will amuse you.

This latest example is not much different than the usual corporate callousness, except it involves my mom who died four years ago, and a company which will not recognize that simple fact despite my best efforts. Without any prompting by anyone, the company, Wachovia, sent my mother a brand-new credit card at my home address, where my mother never lived. This bothered me, because identity thieves often rifle through people's mail looking for just such items, and while I might keep an eye open for things like that done to my credit, it would never occur to me to police my mom's credit -- especially since she passed away over four years ago. So, I called them to cancel the card, and instead of being grateful, they gave me the runaround as if I had no right to interfere in my mom's affairs. I told the guy that I was her executor and that what they had done invited identity fraud, and the guy agreed -- albeit reluctantly -- to cancel the card.

Fine.

But over and done with? Hardly!

Last week, my dear departed mom received a letter urging her to "reconsider" her "decision." I won't bore you by scanning and posting that letter, but I thought it over, and decided that the only way to get through to Wachovia would be to write to the President.

Before you get the wrong idea... I mean the president of Wachovia, folks! The company!

(But seriously, don't you think "Wachovia" sounds like the name of some tinpot dictatorship in a 1930s WC Fields movie?)

Anyway, here is my letter. To the President. Um, I mean the CEO.

Of Wachovia.

Ahem.

December 8, 2003

Mr. Ken Thompson, CEO
Wachovia
1525 West W.T. Harris Blvd.
Charlotte, NC 28288-0376

Re: XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX, Deceased
(Your account number XXXX XXXX XXXX XXXX)

Dear Mr. Thompson,

Not long ago an unsolicited credit card was issued in my deceased mother's name and somehow mailed to her at my address. Considering that my mother died four years ago and never lived here, naturally I was concerned. Anyone could simply start using that credit card (which had a very large limit), and there would be no recourse, because my mother's estate (of which I am executor) has long since been closed and settled.

I assumed that Wachovia would immediately understand the problems presented by a situation like this, and I assumed that I could clear this up with a phone call simply informing Wachovia of my mother's death -- and canceling the credit card erroneously issued in her name.

Imagine my surprise when I received a letter from Ms. Gail Knapp (describing herself as Wachovia's "Customer Satisfaction department") dated November 19. Addressed to my mother (despite my telling Wachovia that she died four years ago), the letter urges my mother to "reconsider this decision" and to "reopen the account." Not only that, Ms. Knapp advised my deceased mother to "be sure to notify those companies that may post recurring charges to this account to pay for products or services such as Internet access, health club memberships and subscriptions, that the account is closed."

Let me state again: my mother died on November 5, 1999. She will not be reopening an account which as far as I know she never opened, nor will she be notifying any companies not to post recurring charges to that account.

Forgive me for being frank, but I don't think Wachovia's performance speaks well of your company. It's bad enough for Wachovia to invite identity theft by sending an unsolicited card to an address where the "cardholder" never lived. But to ignore a clear and simple communication from her son that the cardholder has passed away -- and continue unsolicited communications with her -- borders on callousness.

Normally I wouldn't write to the CEO of a company over such a trivial matter. But considering how poorly my first call was handled (and this sequelae), I don't see the point of communicating yet again with people who obviously do not understand a matter so basic -- and so final -- as death.

While I realize that the concept of corporate accountability has become so old-fashioned as to be considered almost oxymoronic, I do hope that you will be able to at least see to it that my mother's name is removed from any further solicitations, and I thank you for your courtesy and cooperation in this matter.

Sincerely yours,

Eric Scheie

NOTE: Technically, letters written to dead people are not "dead letters," although this site seems to feel otherwise. The link I just provided will generate a random dead letter; if you want to explore on your own, here's their home page. As my luck would have it, the first "dead letter" generated for me was this:

hey dude
is sex fun because its messy or because of the orgasm.i like alot of messy things.:

finger gets cut on thr telephone that means nobody is home
organization is a fuss, a clean break on the cusp
there is an eye an eye on the wall
and its never never never gonna fall
'cause it secures its place as a monument to lost face
i cut my finger on my phone and it recreates that same sacred tone
its the exact same sound as
CASTRATION

come see Lovecraft @ tvturnon@hotmail.com he is lonely

(And please, no comments about needing a stiff one!)