A Commercial for Anna's Linens...

Today, a strange thing happened to me. Yesterday, I watched LJ wash a king sized comforter in the washing machine and then put it in the dryer and immediately after use it on her bed. All these years I thought you had to take them and have them professionally dry cleaned. So this morning, with my white comforter in dire need of cleaning from dog slobber, stains from raw beef bones hidden in my bed, along with the usual assortment of dog biscuits (yes, I have an unusual diet), I dragged the soiled comforter to the washing machine. The exact washing machine that performed so well just yesterday for the Lovely Jules. Before putting the comforter inside the machine, I turned on the HOT water and put a mixture of detergent and water together and let it fill about 1/2 way up. My next step was to insert the comforter. sounds simple, right? The problem was, only about 2/3 of the comforter would fit inside and now the water in it's effort to fill the tub was overflowing onto my feet. Hmm.... what to do? I truly needed a quick solution. First reaction was to turn the water level to low, to stop the water..........no help. the floods were still coming. Then I turned off the water completely and of course that stopped the water, but the comforter had absorbed the entire contents of the tub and now it weighed a gazilion pounds. Plus it was likely to drip about half of that onto the floor. I had no choice Note, sidebar* LJ likes to keep the water temperature up there pretty high and it was no less than painful to grab the comforter and drag it's drippy ass to the backyard, where I fought it onto the top rail of the fence around the pool, suffering second degree burns all over my hands. . As a side job, now I had to clean up the laundry room floor. What better way was there to use LJ's dirty towels, than to pick up the arrant water. The remainder of suds in the washing machine was useful as a solution for washing them in. Feeling pretty good about the outcome, I put out some emails and phone calls on where to get a replacement comforter.

I was instructed to go to Anna's, Walmart's, Target's, and Steinmart's. Steinmarts was my first stop, With the parking lot mobbed on this Sunday escapade, I pulled into a parking place and walked a good distance to the front door. They must have been giving things away, but I was on a mission. I don't think I've ever purchased a comforter before and guess what. It's NOT fun. I approached a lady that was trying her best to not make eye contact with anyone. I soon found out why. She was straightening up pillows when I approached her. I asked if she could direct me to the comforters. I then interjected that I did not want ruffles, just plain, solid color if you have one? She said, there's only green in solid color. I displayed my dislike for green and she wanted to fight. "How am I supposed to know you don't like green"? I decided that Steinmart was not a good choice for today and left. 

Next stop, although I wasn't planning on it, but I passed a Walmart. I pulled in and could hardly find a parking place. As I parked and walked across the parking lot, I was about to enter when I saw a greeter explaining to a lady that could not bring her bird inside. Laughing to myself, I went in and was greeted by a Hispanic lady with a big smile and a nod. With a smile on my face and said to her, "Comforters and bedspreads"? She looked at me and said in her broken English, "When people speak English to me and they talk very fast, I no understand". All the things that went through my mind came together at once and I smiled and put my two hands up to my right cheek and used an inquiring look. With full knowledge of what I now want, she replied, "Oh, TV's, all the way at the end. I nodded, smile and left, headed for the TV department.

I must say that Walmart has a vast sleep department and most of the employees were there sleeping. I found a lady that once again was making herself scarce but tackled her and held her down while I asked for help. I said I wanted a comforter only and everything I see has a bed in a bag type thing where are the plain comforters. I might ad in all fairness that I am not good at finding things. It's just not one of my talents. The kind lady was sort of enjoying herself, since I took her away from stocking. She actually found me a comforter with 2 pillows and it wasn't necessarily ugly. I was kind of gonna buy it. I asked her how much it costs and she started telling to take it 3 isles down and four over and  there will be a machine that will read the bar code. She must have recognized that "lost" look on my face and then volunteered to do it for me. Again all the same things went through my head as when the Hispanic lady told me not to speak so fast if I was going to speak in English. Basically, I know I'm at Walmart, but what the hell happened to customer service.... and English? She walked me over to the machine, had a hard time getting it to work and then advised me that it was $99. What happened to "Falling Prices"? I put it down on the floor, the only place I could find that was available and said thank you and began walking away. She yelled after me, don't you want it? I turned and said I was going to Anna's and did.

I arrived at Anna's and found a parking place right at the front door, I thought I'd died and gone to heaven! I walked past an outdoor display where a young lady smiled and said hello in English. I smiled and walked inside. There were 3 employees and several customers browsing around and I immediately approached a young girl and asked for a king sized comforter in a solid color. She told me to follow her, I did. There were full selection of them in assorted colors and they were clearly marked $39.95. I asked if there were anymore that I might be interested in, that are not solid color and she took me to a rather pleasantly designed one in assorted shades of blue, with circles on it, for $19.99. I said I'll take it, do you accept American Express? She said that comes to $21.85 with tax, have a nice day. My only question is, why didn't I go to Anna's first?

My Best Sarcasm...

DutchTrouble 2/25/2012 5:30:15 AM Dear Ms. Ricky Lynn: Welcome to POF, I am officially the welcoming committee. I read what you had to say and I might add that it was well put. I am writing for duel purposes. First, I thought you to be cute and attractive, enough so to cause me to stop and write, but also I see you're a Realtor and I'm also looking for a house. If you feel that you can help me with either of my searches, please contact me. My name is Mel...

RickieLynn 2/25/2012 7:42:18 AM Hello Mel, Are you for real. You are seriously on the welcoming committee? I was welcomed earlier today too. Thank you for the kind compliment and yes I'm a Realtor amoung a few other things. So you are looking for a house. Any particular house? Are you not working with a Realtor at this time? You mentioned either search... what's your other search? Rickie

DutchTrouble 2/25/2012 9:06:44 AM I don't mean to sound sarcastic, but this is a dating service and I already have a puppy! Mel

Day One of the Move...

I rode around today looking for a house. The Realtor that I chose was a friend of a former high school buddy and I really didn't know him. It was quite a day. First he was late and left me just sitting around all morning and afternoon and then he wanted me to meet him at a gas station at 64th and Greenway. Kind of unusual for a first meeting, I thought. I pulled into the gas station and parked right behind him and he waved. He said to follow him to the first house. It was close and I did. I really didn't care for it. It was small, with white 12" tiles throughout, had a full assortment of weeds, both front and back on top of cheap desert landscaping. I thumbed my nose at it and we exited. The second house was quite a distance, so I asked if he wanted to ride with me or should I park my car and ride with him? He said we need to take 2 cars. Huh? He said he had a mess in his car and he needs to work while on the way, so he can't ride with me. By this time, I figured my high school friend must have told him I was either gay or had been to prison! Frankly, I did feel a little rejected. So I followed him down Bell road all the way to the 101 and then he got on and started driving. It seemed like his driving kind of changed about then and he was way less aggressive in traffic. We were going to a house at 92nd and Shea and I watched him pass the Shea exit and continue rather slowly in traffic. He drove another 5 miles South or so and pulled into the Pavilions Shopping Center and then slowly pulled into a parking place. I figured he had to get a key or something and just waited in my car for him to exit and go into a store to retrieve it. That's when I saw two woman get out of the car I had been following and go shopping. Suddenly the light bulb lit over my head and I realized I'd been following the wrong car. I was mad now. He drove a Toyota, Sequoia  in charcoal gray and there must have been dozens of them on the road, just like his. I swear I never even looked away! 

I told him that when we left North Scottsdale to keep checking his mirror and if I disappear to call me. He didn't. I called him and he said he was at the next house, where was I? Half an hour later I got there and saw the second of 2 he had chosen for me. I really didn't like either one...............or him!

My OLD Buddy Dave...

One night while watching some movie that held no particular meaning for me, it was about some guy and his buddy that got into all sorts of trouble. It made me think of my old buddy Dave, who was that person for me. So I searched for Dave on Facebook and immediately found him living in Florida and Chicago. I invited him to be my Facebook friend and sent him a short note. I hadn't seen or heard from Dave in almost 40 years. We were partners in crime in every respect. From the time that we drove around trying to get someone to rear end us, so he wouldn't have to go to boot camp the following day. To the 5 girls we allegedly left behind in New York, when at the last minute we decided to come back to Chicago to celebrate New Year's Eve.


Although we had fake IDs for our Chicago bar escapades, New York had a drinking age of only 18, so we could walk around like big shots there. We also learned that they had mashing laws that we had never heard of until one night a young lady that did not like our advances told a cop we were bothering her, so we had to run from the cops to avoid arrest.


One night back in Chicago, we had dates with 2 girls we'd met in Lake Geneva and were taking them out for dinner. Dave and I met in the men's room to discuss the rather unpleasantness of our dates and then proceeded to exit through the bathroom window, laughing our asses off all the way out! No telling how long they sat there waiting.


Another time, after spending the night with whatever young lady graced me with her presence at a motel, we were leaving at about 10 AM and who do you suppose was leaving the room next door at the same time? Right, my old buddy Dave with Sheila Kasmierski, a pretty blond, the girl I was with the week prior. We all laughed except Sheila who went straight to the car and wouldn't even look at me.


Then there was the time that Dave had just gotten his new 65 Mercury Comet convertible, it was Mercury's answer to the Mustang, Dave's was a white one with the 260 V-8 and a 4 speed. We were driving down the outer drive in Chicago, when a 57 Chevy station wagon carrying 3 teenagers cut us off rather severely  and flipped us the bird, when Dave honked. That was all it took. The road-rage was on and we followed them relentlessly for about 3 hours, all the while, I was saying, "What are you doing, there are 3 of them and only 2 of us"! With the adrenalin flowing freely, Dave kept saying, "We can take 'em"! Hmm..... I wasn't so sure. As luck would have it we caught them in highland Park at the end of a dead end street and there was no way for them to get out. (Unfortunately) We had them!!! 


All three exited the car and came running at Dave and me. We stood our ground. A short chunky guy came running at me with his head down, clearly a running back. Without really knowing what to do, being 6 feet tall and 135 soaking wet, I closed my eyes and did what every superhero would do, I closed my eyes and I used an upper cut and somehow connected just right and put this poor kid's teeth, right through his lower lip. He fell to the ground in surrender. I looked over to see how Dave was doing and he was pinned down to the ground by the two guys that chose to wallop the crap out of him. They had literally ripped most of Dave's clothes off and were running to their car by the time I arrived to help. Suddenly there was a cop arriving and it took a lot of explaining not to get arrested for disturbing the peace. I got away without even a scratch, while poor Dave had lumps and bumps all over him. He went home... while I went to Joe's Tavern to explain the fight to Joe, my bar tending buddy...


The following is an email that I sent to Dave following a texting session we'd had this morning.


Dave:

I recall our going to NYC together now. It was coming home early, in time for NYE that triggered that thought. We went to the Edgewater Hotel for dinner and I think I was with Sheila that time. I recall having a cold and when I laughed out loud, I blew a booger onto her lobster tail that she was so much enjoying. I didn't have the heart to say, "Hey Sheila, I just blew a booger onto your food"! So I just sat there and watched as she came closer and closer to the booger, then on one of her last bites, swallowed it. That's when I decided it was OK for you to date her!

I remember driving around the night before you were to be shipped out to boot camp, trying to get into a rear end accident with your 65 Mercury Comet, so you wouldn't have to go. You used to say it was a cross between a Valiant and a Comet, a Vomit! What ever happened to your National guard enlistment? Did you serve the 6 months? That must have been when we stopped hanging out. I recall moving home after my lease was up at 1756 W. Rosehill, in the heart of the Rosehill Cemetary. Then Dick Mills and I shared a place on Roscoe and Broadway and that was a whole other bunch of memories for me. He gave me a black eye the night before my wedding to the lovely Barbara, because Jewish law required that my brother was to be best man, not him. That was the law that my mother laid down anyway.

My mother died an early death at age 69. My father immediately took up with a woman from New York named Adrianne. I recall doing my impression of Rockie whenever I called her. That really won her over. She was an obnoxious Jewess bitch, literally. I had to physically throw her out of my house in Scottsdale after my son Stuart's wedding. We didn't speak for the 5 years prior to my dad's death. He lived to be 83, which was great considering he had 3 heart attacks at age 51.

I don't recall leaving 5 girls in NYC waiting for us. Who were they and can we still get them? What ever happened to Al Mitofsky?

Mel

Don't Join CHEMISTRY.COM

I've complained about this ridiculous company in the past, but this time I've decided not to put up with it any longer. In 2004 I was a member of Match.com and that's when they spun off a new company to compete with eHarmony. They gave me a free membership that expires in 2050. They called it Chemistry, although it's clear that that's precisely what it is lacking. I'll explain.


 For years I sent Chemistry to an empty email address that I had with AOL. I was content with them there, I didn't get their repetitive junk emails, no one aggravated me with sending me matches from wash women from Delaware, complete with their buckets and mops. Eight out of ten members did not post pictures and the ones that did were from a homeless shelter in Ajo! (That's an AZ joke. Ajo almost borders Mexico, you get the drift.) My latest problem with Chemistry, after sending them to my Gmail address that has been taken over by spammers (A good place for them) was that somehow I must have arranged for that mail to be forwarded to my real email address and I don't see how to stop it. They send me notices that Maggy is interested in me and wants to communicate. When I get to their website, there is no Maggy and never was! I write to customer service and they explain that Maggy changed her mind and sometimes that just happens. Now it's happening about twice a week though. Not just Maggy, but an assortment of make-believe people.


A few days ago, I got notice from them that Celeste wants to get to know me better. I quickly clicked on the profile of Celeste and there sat a woman in a wheelchair with white hair and 78 years old! That prompted the following email.

"Cancel my free membership. I've suffered enough. I can only picture a roomful of idiots trying to figure out a way to make an otherwise successful company (Match.com) fail! No more emails from customer service fools with canned answers, just cancel this ridiculous service and do everyone a service and close down!"


You know what happened as a result? NOTHING! This proves that there is no one there overlooking this runaway dating service!


I did have a busy day on Match, however. 


First I was clicking along, having a wonderful time when suddenly I got notice of an instant message from Mela, 30 year old female from New York. No picture posted. I answered her message a very direct "HELLO". I replied:


Hello, before I message with you, I'll need a note from your mom and dad! (My youngest child is 38)


MELA: Why, I'm a grown up now. 


ME: Why don't you have a picture posted? How do I know you're not an Iraqu, smoking a cigar and laughing at the 65 year old guy, messaging with a child? 


MELA: Sorry about the picture.


That was when I blocked her from contacting me again. I've already made that mistake once, particularly from New York.

Next came a note from Adelealena. It said, Hi, how are you and included the above picture. She clearly was in distress, since she had fallen in that fountain. I wrote her back, "Call 911 and didn't hear anything back. I hope she was okay!

Dancing the Night AWAY!

I had a fun flashback today. It was one of the natural ones, not drug induced. I received an email this afternoon from a rather attractive woman  and she gave me some compliment in her writing. In response, I wrote her a quick note and it said at some point "You're not so bad yourself". I apologized for not writing more and explained that I was one foot out the door to run some errands. Here's my flashback...


The year was 1956 and I was 10 years old and attending the 5th Grade at Cleveland Elementary School in Skokie, Illinois. The teacher sent home a note with me, telling our parents that there was to be a Sock Hop at school. I was not at all interested in dancing. I was all about baseball, basketball and football and certainly not girls, however that all changed shortly after that. Maybe even at the sock hop! First, I needed to learn how to dance. My mother volunteered to be the teacher and after about an hour of painful lessons, I believe I had mastered the 2 step, but only if I kept repeating the instructions to myself constantly, 1, 2, 1, 2.


She got me all dressed up and I found out that day in school that all the girls had decorated their sweat socks with fancy bows and misc decorations. I was lucky to find a pair that didn't have holes in them. Somebodies mother or father drove a few of us from my neighborhood to the school for my first dance. I literally had no idea what to expect. We arrived and were required to remove our shoes, so as not to ruin the gymnasium floor. What was all that nonsense about anyway? I think it was a plot created by the gym shoe manufacturers to increase their business, but that's another topic for another day.


The gym was lined with folding chairs along the sides of the room and all the boys were gathered around talking and most of the girls were dancing with each other on the dance floor. Without notice, a cute girl from the grade above us and tapped me on the shoulder. When I turned around I froze in panic as she smiled and said one word to me. Dance? Feeling the trauma of shock, similar to a zombie, I walked out onto the dance floor and assumed my practiced position. Knowing I had to keep it to myself, I began, 1, 2, 1, 2.... When suddenly this girl who was about a head taller than me and one of the girls that a lot of the boys agreed was pretty cute, said to me, as she looked into my eyes, "You're kind of cute". Still frozen, but moving my feet in that memorized pattern, I looked up and recited a line I'd heard in a Humphrey Bogart movie, "You're not so bad yourself"! That's when I felt this terrible heat rise through me and settle in my face. It turned blood red as I blushed. For the rest of the song, I kept my head down and prayed she wouldn't talk to me anymore. As soon as the song was over, I rushed to the boys room and splashed water in my face to cool it off. That was the last dance I attended that year.

Mirror Images

An interesting phenomenon took place over Superbowl weekend. I met a woman online that may be different than all the rest. I learned from one of my former girlfriends and current devoted reader that I don't know how to pick, she called them, dates. If I were picking dates, I wouldn't bother at all. The fact is, if I never went on another "date" it would be fine with me. I'm looking for a female partner. You know, the type you live with on a permanent basis. Not necessarily a wife, I've had those and frankly it's not all that it's cracked up to be. No, just a partner. Her name is Marty and my name is Mel and we both thought of how well our names went together simultaneously. She referred to us as Marty and Mel and I thought of the Mel and Marty Show. It was quickly reduced to M&M. I offered her my phone number after a series of quick emails and she supplied it without any grief. No beating around the bush and playing hard to get. I hate the games some play. Even our phone numbers, hers ended with 6666 and mine ends with 6200. I called her on Sunday after she texted me at about 2 PM. After a 4 1/2 hour conversation, we learned quite a bit about one another. I think we would have still been on the phone if my battery hadn't just given up without warning. I rushed to the charger to recharge so we could continue the conversation, as she was leaving today for Portland for a few weeks. 

During the 4 1/2 hours, here are a few of the things that I learned about Marty. We have both been married 3 times apiece, totaling 6. We discussed all six marriages and the offspring. I learned that like me, she gave birth to a daughter that suffered a stroke. Her son's name is Brad and he married a woman 10 years his senior and his wife will have nothing to do with Marty in spite of her having done nothing to deserve that, similar to my situation with my son Brad.That part is remarkable. She has a limited relationship with her son Brad, as do I, and that is due to our daughter-in-laws. Our third and last marriages were ended as a result of a family member that caused the break up by being too aggressive in a matter that really didn't concern them and our weak spouses were influenced to the point of disaster. How are those for a set of circumstances that are almost precisely exact and so similar that it is scary? 

Obviously we haven't physically met yet, but I think that she is absolutely the type I like and hopefully we won't get horrible surprises when we meet. She has already told me that she needs to lose 20 lbs due to gaining weight after a foot injury, but she's 5' 5" and I'm not expecting a thin as a rail girl, just not a porker! When I first saw Marty online I thought she was too young for me. I have certain parameters for the women that they offer me and mine are a conservative 50 to 62. Occasionally they'll show me a 49 year old and I thought this was one of those times, but Marty from the M&M Show is well within my age category at 61. See what you think?

-- 

Princess Chelsea

 Boy, have I got a story for you guys. It's a dating story so get yourself settled into a comfortable chair. 

Being of Jewish descent and being able to browse through a catalogue of women in the form of Match.com, I am able to choose someone that offers their age, height, weight, religion and hair color. Now every time I see a woman of the Jewish faith, I feel an imaginary tap on my shoulder and of course it's my mother, in her more than capable way, making me feel guilty. It was her purpose in life, now in her absence it continues in my mind. I hear her say, "she looks nice" each and every time I pass a profile of a Jewish woman. So I tend to give priority to the Jewish girls over any other. Each and every time, I'm left in the dust, horribly disappointed. 

Enter Chelsea, her real name. Not too many Chelseas in my age category, since it's a pretty new name. I assume it's a screen name, but just a guess. Chelsea is 53, although when I read her profile, it began with "Oops, I hit 53 and meant 63 and they won't let me change it! 

Right, and monkeys can fly, I'm thinking. I already know one very important fact about Chelsea, she's a liar! With this tucked away for future reference, I decide if she appears as she does in her pictures, I really don't care about what her true age is, it's irrelevant. I write to her and she's open to meeting me. She used big words like, "commonality". She offered me her cell number and it was from North Carolina, interesting. She was Jewish, spent some time in North Carolina, not a place where you find too many Jews AND she's a liar. Moving forward, I try calling her but she allows it to go to voice mail. You know, with cell phones, when someone doesn't answer, it's not because they're not home! They consciously choose not to answer. That's fine, we all have times during our day that it's not okay to answer a phone, I know I do. She called me back and I was busy and she left a message that she was very busy and the first time she'll have free was Thursday and that was just to talk. She had to work, although her profile said she was retired and then it was a meeting with the Condo board and so forth. I texted her back that I'll try calling again after 9 on Wednesday night, after her sculpting class. I phoned her last night.

I opened the conversation with, 

"This is that call we've been trying to schedule", do you know who this is?

She replied: "Yes, it's Mel..."

(So far pretty smooth, huh?)

Me: So you're a pretty busy person, I see. 

Her: Well, I work on the weekends and even though I say I'm retired, I'm more like semi retired. I was working a full week, but only on the weekends now. 

Me: So, what sort of work to you do?

Her: I really don't like to tell people what I do because..... (Well, now I'm thinking this is really cool, CIA, FBI at least. I just watched a movie with Colon Farrow(?) and Al Pachini entitled "the Recruit" and I was all wired for something similar!

Me: Are you going to tell what you do or will you have to kill me if I find out. She giggles and says, it's nothing like that, I just don't like for people to know where I work and what I do. (Long silence) I work at Lowe's! I'm your bulb and fixture girl. 

Me: I was hoping for at least a paid killer! What's wrong with working at Lowe's? Well, I'm different that all of the other employees there, she explained. 

Me: In what way, I ask.

Her: Well, you know what I mean. They're all working class people and I......... Well, ya know???

Oh my God, folks! We have an actual Jewish American Princess here. My worst fear brought to light, right on my very AT&T phone! 

Although I wasn't quite ready to just blow her off, I was close. I bated her on a few other subjects, such as marriages and children. She had been married twice, both for just 5 years and no children. I said, so you kind of lucked out on the kids, she said, yeah, no kids, I don't know what I would have done with children, they're awful!

The chance of our being a match are now down below 10%, but the fun is not yet over. I tell her my brief story, about my house selling in short sale and living with a friend and I'm about to wrap things up when I tell her that I'm not sure if it's a good idea to meet just yet, perhaps we should talk some more. That's when she laid the bombshell on me.

Her: Are you sure you can afford a girlfriend?

Me: Long and dragging silence.... I have SO many things to say, but all that comes out is, How much is one? She reiterated...

I mean, I'm doing just fine by myself, I don't need a man to support! 

Okay, now we have it, Full Blown Jewish American Princess, at her finest...

I have finally gotten to a place where, when my mother looks over my imaginary shoulder and makes my choices for me, I just just turn and tell her to SHUT the HELL UP!

I thought of a gazillion things to say to her, but took pleasure in just saying goodbye as she was speaking, and hung up. As I was sitting here writing this, the following email arrived and no, I'll not answer it.

Title:    Deserving of the Stink Eye.

                                                      Actual picture from Picture from 09

Mel: I am apologizing for my crass, insensitive, rude, stupid and all together boorish question.  I hope you will accept my sincere apology.  I do not expect an answer to this e-mail but I will tell you I needed an Ambian last night over it. Chelsea

Ralph Lloyd Juriansz DDS. CROOK!

If you've been following my blog/life at all, you'll know that I was almost impregnated by an unscrupulous dentist, a Dr. Ralph Lloyd Juriansz DDS PhD. He screwed me to the point that there is no coming back. I'm not the least bit reluctant to mention his name out loud and often, to save someone else from his demented wrath.

When you engage the services of a professional, there is a certain amount of trust involved. It never occurs to you that his intentions are not legitimate. This is the case with Dr. Ralph Lloyd Juriansz. I had a doctor's appointment with an internist in the same office complex and sure as shit, he's flown the coup. There is another doctor occupying his former office. This was already told to me by the Arizona Board of Dentistry, when they called and informed me of their decision in my favor.

When Chase Bank sided with the good doctor, I realized their decision was based upon who they could collect from. That would be me, since the creep is gone, took the high road to nowhere land. I contested their decision and wrote to the Federal Reserve. This is the regulatory agency that regulates Chase Bank. Frankly, this was not an easy task, as no one admitted to being the correct agency. I finally just wrote to all off them. About a week ago, I got a call from a Jessica Jones from Chase Bank and she informed me that the case was assigned to her and that she'd be in touch with me soon, with a new decision.

Today the call came. although I was busy, I stopped what I was doing (frying eggs) and sat down to relax and enjoy the reversal of decision. But it didn't happen. Although she was poised and polite, the fact still remained that the bosses told her to side in their own favor and that I still owe the $3500. She mentioned several times that Chase was just the lending vessel. As a consolation prize, she offered me the $3500 loan at 0% interest, for the balance, until paid off.

Honestly, when I contacted the Federal Reserve, I was expecting them to organize the investigation and not give back to the exact people that I'm having a problem with. That shows me that Chase Bank is more powerful that the Federal Reserve! The next time I apply for a credit card, it's going to be from a Mom and Pop outfit, but certainly not one of the big ones that are too big for their britches!