I'm running through life on half a scatterbrain most of the time. For the most part, I get by, but sometimes I have to struggle. Today was one of those days when the struggle was rewarded.
Over the last few months, emails had been hitting my inbox reminding me of unread bank statements. Every time they arrived, I tried to download them, dutifully. My efforts were forever foiled, though.
The system wouldn't let me log on because it didn't recognize my password as correct. When I got it so far as to send me a new password to the email address associated with the account, I would subsequently get stuck in a thicket of security questions, the correct answers to which I could never recall.
As the account I'm talking about dates back to when I was in Utah and is perennially hibernating, basically just serving as a backup in case I need an American credit card, I didn't pay it much mind. Despite the constant devaluation of the dollar, some money was still left on the account, though slowly trickling down to nothing.
Today I noticed that my debit card was about to be renewed, and that I needed to change the address for its delivery. To do that, access to my account was of the essence, but being 6000 miles away, I can't just walk into the nearest branch. I called in, and Ashley helped me out before I could even fully stumble through explaining the problem. Upon hearing my account number, birthday, social security number, and mom's maiden name, she reset my password and disabled the security questions. When I had logged back on, the first time in half a year, I did not only find the missed statements, but every single one dating back to early 2001. I love my credit union.
On the other hand, it makes you wonder about identity theft, doesn't it?