After years (maybe more like months–I haven't had a Chase checking account for much more than a year) of ignoring and deleting emails from Chase, I finally opened one to discover that I had a rewards debit card (news to me) that the program had been cancelled ages ago, and that I had accumulated a little over 10,000 points which is equal to $100 real world dollars. Whoo hoo. Now, I'm the proud owner of a Darden (Red Lobster, Olive Garden, Bahama Breeze, Seasons 52, Longhorn Steakhouse–has anyone actually eaten at the steakhouse?) gift card.
Now, hip to these previously ignored rewards, I stopped midway from dumping an Old Navy junk mailer in the recycling bin because in addition to seeing out of the corner of my eye that I'd been a card member since 2001 (that long?) that I could check my account online to see points. Who knew what jackpot might be awaiting? Except that I had no idea what my log on might be, considering I hadn't done so in over a decade. I tried one of my usual IDs and no password combo would work. When I asked for a hint I got "What is your paternal grandmother's first name?" Um, I have no fucking idea. I never met the woman and I don't recall my father ever saying her first name, though he must have (I do know she had a Basque surname, Arregui) Did I know in 2001? Once again, I began fearing my dwindling capacity for retaining facts.
"You seem to be having trouble answering your challenge questions," the interface told me. No shit.
My next question about high school mascot (er, a gopher) also didn't work. It turns out that I never had registered an account online, which makes me wonder who is using my not-that-common ID as a log on. I guess someone who knows their paternal grandmother's first name.