A couple of things.
One, I accept that you have some enormously detailed personal profile of me. If this ever starts to bug me too much, I’ll start paying for everything with cash and move to a cabin in Montana with no electricity or running water. In the meantime, if you’re going to profile me, could you please at least do so competently? Don’t put some sort of security hold on my account because of a charge that’s completely identical to one you cheerfully accepted last month, and the month before that, and every month for the last year and a half. If “NFI*Netflix - Watch TV Shows Online, Watch Movies Online” sets off the Red Alert Klaxon and the flashing strobe lights down at the Security Department at MegaCorp HQ, why didn’t it do that the first two dozen times it showed up? The barn door is wide open and the horses are nowhere to be seen. The horses are off running wild and free on the open range, a thousand miles away.
Of course, when Netflix sent me the plaintive e-mail that my credit card was no longer working, stupidly enough, I never called you guys down at the Credit Card company. I re-entered all my billing info on the Netflix site a few times, I called Netflix (“Gosh, it’s just saying the card wasn’t accepted. Did you try re-entering everything?”) and then eventually I gave up and provided Netflix with a different credit card. Why didn’t I ever call the Credit Card People?
Well, that brings me to point two: If you think there’s some suspicious activity on my card, here’s how it works–you call me at my home telephone number (which you have on file). I almost certainly don’t actually answer, so you leave me a voicemail: “Hi, this is MegaCorp Security Department, calling because of some possibly suspicious activity on your MasterCard account. Please call us back right away at 1-800-blah-blah-blah!” Then I call you back, from my home telephone number (which you have on file) and you confirm I’m really me (and I being a nasty suspicious sort have verified this 800 number I’m calling is really MegaCorp and not Scammers ‘R’ Us) and you say “Mr. Buckner, we just need to confirm that this order you placed using your MasterCard to have $1,000 worth of collectible Hummel figurines shipped to an address in Lagos, Nigeria, was legitimate”. I either say “Holy fuck, no! Please cancel my card and send out a new one to my home address (which you have on file) right away! Thanks for catching that!” or I say “Oh, yeah, that’s legit. Those are for my cousin in the Peace Corps–God only knows why she likes those things.” I have had this happen both ways in the past, with different accounts–at least once I had the Credit Card People call me, and the charge was some web site I’d never heard of, and they cancelled credit card 1234 5678 9012 3456 and sent out 1234 5678 9024 6802 a few days later; and another time it turned out, that, oh yeah, I really had just bought an AK-47 at Billy Bob’s Pawn Shop, and they were all “OK, thanks and sorry to bother you”. Either way, fine, a well-oiled machine doing its work, protecting me (and MegaCorp) from fraudsters.
What you don’t do is put my credit card on Double Secret Probation, whereby you randomly accept most things, but every once in a while you equally randomly decline some charge (a charge completely identical in every way to twelve other charges I already made and paid for in the last year using this card). See, this is why I spent the last couple of months thinking Netflix had lost their minds, and never bothered to call you–I mean, the trouble had to be on the Netflix end, right? There obviously wasn’t anything wrong with the card, right? After all, I’d made umpteen charges that same week, and they were all going through, and they all showed up when I logged on to your website, and I checked and re-checked my address and all my other information on file at the credit card website, so, hell, must be Netflix for some reason just decided to stop taking that particular MasterCard for no good reason. Silly buggers.
Only there were those two magazine re-subscriptions–that I had sent back in the mail, with my signature and everything, not online, to magazines that I’ve been subscribing to for probably twenty years now, and have almost certainly renewed in the past using this credit card–that had mysteriously never showed up on my account. And then today I went to give someone some money online, an amount of money equal to amounts of money I’d given those exact same people at that exact same website at least four times in the last year, most recently in December, and you never had a problem with it. And it kept saying “credit card declined”. Got all six hundred digits of the account number correctly entered, verified the three Sooper Secret Digits from the back of the card, verified the expiration date, verified I know my own home address and I hadn’t fat-fingered my ZIP Code and I hadn’t misspelled my own name, logged on to the credit card website to make sure I hadn’t for some reason suddenly become persona non grata or had my account frozen by Homeland Security or anything like that. So, finally, I called the Credit Card People. And found out about the Double Secret Probation, and confirmed that, yes, that was all really me, both the charges you randomly accepted and the charges you’ve been randomly declining for, apparently, several months now. So I guess the Double Secret Probation has been lifted and you’ll stop randomly declining charges without actually bothering to notify me or anything like that.
But, well, what the fuck, huh? As noted, it’s not like any of these charges were at all out of line from how I’d been using the credit card in the past. It’s not like I recently took up on-line gambling or established a business partnership with someone at the Nigerian Ministry of Finance. And even if something did set off your Distant Early Warning line, then call me, send me a letter, throw a brick through my window with a note wrapped around it, hell, just lock down the card altogether until I contact you–don’t start just randomly declining some of the charges, while allowing most of them to go sailing blithely on through, because that is an utterly retarded way to deal with an account that you (for some idiotic reason) think is having some sort of security problem.