“You could call the number attached to the purchase,” the bank-accountant suggested.

“Well that would be horribly awkward,” I said.

What are you supposed to say when the person who stole your identity answers the phone? My sister went through a series of scenarios, such as calling and when they ask whom I am, respond with “I’m the one asking the questions,” then slam the phone down. I told her I’d consider it.

The other day I noticed a large sum of money had been taken out of my account. Upon calling the bank, I was told a series of hoops I could jump through to “dispute the charges.”

“Can’t I just promise that I did not spend this much money, and you guys give it back to me?” I asked.

Apparently, they don’t go by your word. But if you don’t have your word, what do you have? The bank also didn’t buy that.

I filed the dispute the next morning, and in a few weeks I’ll be informed if the bank accepts my dispute or not. So basically, it’s going to take the “fraud department” two weeks to believe if I bought something in Nebraska within twenty minutes I bought something from a Jcrew in Baltimore.

Through all of this, though, it’s pretty cool to think that someone wants to be me. It reminds me of those commercials where people’s voices don’t match their bodies. What would my body look like? Maybe it’s an old grandmother who escaped from jail, or a teenage boy trying to impress a girl. They should have been more responsible, though, because I didn’t have much for them to steel. Jokes on them, I guess.