Mr. Diaz

I don’t know a whole lot about finance, but I assume it’s a bad sign you are trying to buy a house and your lender calls to see if you, a girl, have ever opened credit cards under a male alias.

I guess I should start at the beginning. Which, as I learned from The Sound of Music, is a very good place to start.

Also, Nazis = assholes.

Also, Nazis = assholes.

My phone vibrated at work yesterday morning, and when I looked down I saw that the call was from my bank. Of course I did what any responsible adult would do and silenced that shit because I was busy watching the “Here Comes Honey Boo Boo” season 2 trailer.

Then I got busy doing ACTUAL work, and when I finally got around to playing the message at lunchtime, I was greeted with this:

“Hi, um … this is weird, but have you ever gone by the name Efrain Diaz? Because we just ran your social security number and it looks like somebody in Minnesota with that name used your social security number in 2007.”


I would like to note that the woman helping me with my loan deserves a solid gold trophy (and a prescription for Xanax, probably) for putting up with me for the last month. When I called her back, she actually answered the phone with, “I know you’re freaking out, so just take a deep breath.”

Clearly this lady has gotten to know me pretty well.

Before I could tell her that no, I have never attempted to fool anyone into thinking I’m a Hispanic man, she let me know that there were no fraudulent charges made to any of my accounts and no new cards were opened, so it’s probably not a huge deal. And then I realized maybe she doesn’t know me all that well because if there is one thing I am good at, it is turning a non-issue into a VERY HUGE DEAL. Ask Dave about the time I thought I had lupus because I got a rash on my arm.

After about 10 minutes of entertaining my theory that Mr. Diaz probably has my address and is plotting to kill me and have gender reassignment surgery to steal my identity, she asked if it would make me feel better if she talked to a company called Fraud Guard to see if they thought I had reason to be worried.

I would not judge her at all if she made up “Fraud Guard” on the spot and spent the next hour Googling “How to talk to crazy people” before calling me back to tell me they said not to worry.

Apparently, Fraud Guard said Mr. Diaz used my social security number on an application to rent an apartment. Does it make me a bad person to hope that he got a roach infestation? Or that his toilet backed up and flooded the entire place when he was out putting fake social security numbers on forms? Because I kind of do.

2 thoughts on “Mr. Diaz

  1. Pingback: Twenty Thirteen | heatherhomefaker

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