Have you ever felt like the world’s biggest dumbass?
Well, sit back and allow me to make you feel better about yourself. And, let me warn you – this is sure to be peppered with expletives, as 1) this overwhelmingly embarrassing true story warrants every fucking one and 2) that’s how I talk.
I share this with you for a few additional reasons:
First, as a form of self-punishment, as I, who am normally somewhat intuitive and fairly skeptical with trust issues (I am a Scorpio for fuck’s sake), fell hook, line, and sinker for something without noticing the 5,000 obvious fucking clues that screamed “DON’T BE A DUMBASS!”
Secondly, I haven’t had content inspiration for my blog since the dreaded bunny debacle.
Lastly, I’m hopeful that by torturing myself by reliving my dumbassery while putting in writing, that it will help purge my mind of the horrific memory and alleviate some of my self-loathing. Oh, and that I will stop with the random pauses I keep taking where I literally freeze for a second, raise my chin, stare blankly at nothing, and think to myself, “What the serious fuck Dickerson? How is it possible to be such a dumbass?” (I refer to myself as Dickerson when I’m pissed at me.)
I think I’m going to have a lot to say as the dumbassery occurred over a couple of hours. I recommend grabbing a drink, putting your feet up, and settling in to digest each detail of my utter humiliation…for the ultimate benefit of feeling so much better about yourself.
You see, I am the heavy weight champion of dumbass mother fuckers.
I, in fact, have my degree in idiocrasy.
I should wear my shame on my shirt like the fucking Scarlett Letter.
I think there’s a new “Yo mama” joke about me. “Yo mama is so stupid, she…”
I should stand on the side of the road with a sign, like some parents make their rotten kids do to humiliate them for talking back or bullying. By the way, fuck bullies.
I actually did the walk of shame. Through the aisles of Walmart.
Seriously, please benefit from my pain and let it make you feel better about yourself.
Jesus, am I ever going to get to the fucking story?!! Yep.
I worked from home that day. I had no meetings and working from home saves me about 2 hours in the car, not to mention the time saved from no makeup, no getting out of PJs, and even skipping my morning 2-minute Sonicare tooth brushing experience. (I love my tooth brush – 30 seconds on each quadrant.)
Working from home every once in a while is so wonderful and it’s Christmas time, which is also so wonderful. I LOVE Christmas. I just thought of Holy Hunter in Raising Arizona when H.I. hands her the baby he just kidnapped and then she shakes and cries and shouts “I LOVE HIM SOOOO MUCH! That’s how I feel about Christmas, despite the fact that our tree fell over the night we got it and a few of my favorite ornaments broke and the tree stopped taking water the next day so it’s been dead for 2 weeks. It sits right next to the fire place, which is also somewhat concerning.
Anyway, I’m at home with my holiday tunes pumpin’ (as they have been since the day after Thanksgiving), getting into my work groove and also awaiting my new console table from Wayfair. I thought I’d enjoy the splendor that Boy Scout usually gets to experience when he’s home – 2 dogs going completely ape shit when the UPS or FedEx driver walks up to the front door. It’s typically when he’s on a conference call. So fun.
Low and behold, there arose such a clatter. The FedEx guy was here with my table. Dogs went ape shit, blah blah blah. Boy Scout lugged the giant box inside and opened it. It wasn’t my table. Rather, it was “wall art”. Huh. That’s funny. Well shit. So, I called Wayfair and with their ninja like order searching skills and over the top customer service, in 5 minutes, the table was being prepped for shipping and I was to simply keep the wall art (unless the warehouse wanted it back, in which case they’ll email me a return label). They don’t seem to give a rip about getting stuff back. Happened with a pillow order too. “Just keep it. Our sweat shop with make more.” So, now I have this mammoth gold metal wall art thing that looks like a thousand chop sticks coming at you from all directions worth $140. Huh.
Moving on. Back to work.
I receive an email from my boss (for all intents and purposes, and for this story, it was my boss).
It went something like this (admittedly there was a rather long email exchange between us, but I’m trying to block a lot of that out, so here’s the CliffsNotes version:
“Are you in the office? I need your help with something. I owe a client some gift cards today and I can’t get them. Can you use your corporate card and get them? I need four for $100 each. They need them today so just send me the numbers off the back of the cards so I can send to the client.”
Can you see where this is going? Chief Dumbass here did not.
I told Boy Scout about the request from my boss and told him I was going to Walmart. He quickly handed me the grocery list, the one he had just rewritten to match the layout of the store. Ok, sure, I’ll grab our deli meat and shit while I’m there. No problem. Oh, and I also received my new Vans (shoes) that morning so of course I HAD to wear them to Wally World. Not the most practical decision since it was pouring down rain, but whatever. (They are mules, as I just want to be able to slide my foot into my shoe. I’m a lazy shoe putter onner, ok?)
I hauled my ass to Walmart and made a beeline for the gift card carousel. I found the $100 Google Play cards (per the request). I took them to the register. “Item not found”. Huh. The cashier was confused. She tried to scan them all again, about 5,000 times. “Item not found” each time. She called her manager. Manager said “Yeah, some of them don’t work.” Huh. She asked where I got them and then asked if I tried the OTHER gift card carousel (not located anywhere near the first one). I politely said “No, I didn’t think I needed to check that one after I found them over on the first one.” She was very friendly and grabbed all other $100 cards and said “Come on honey, I’ll get you at the customer service desk.” “Item not found” for all of them.
Boss emailed me “Did you get them yet?” Me: “They aren’t scanning. Can I get eight $50 cards instead if those work?” Him: “Yes, that’s fine.”
I asked the manager to try a $50 card. It worked. We’re in business. You can only pay for 2 cards per transaction though. Ok, whatever. Start scanning.
Huh. My corporate card won’t work. Oh right, gift cards can only be bought with cash or a debit card (at most places these days). Shit. Ok, I’ll just use my debit card and expense it.
I even ask my boss for the client name and purpose for my expense report (as I’m killing time between transactions). He replies with the information. Cool.
Then, I scan all my receipts and send them to the Cloud to magically be added to my next expense report and proceed to scratch off the little yucky silver strip on the back of each card, so I can send pics to my boss. I had to borrow a flipping coin from the Walmart manager. I was thinking, “Since when do I NOT have a shitload of spare change laying in the bottom of my purse with food crumbs and such?” Huh.
I finish up and confirm my boss is good to go. Yep! All set!
Ok, on to the groceries. I get about half way through the aisles and my boss emails again. “Hey, they got the cards, and all is good but they need 7 more. Can I trouble you to go back and get them?” I’m thinking “Well, shit I’m still here at Wally World, so no problem”.
Huh. Wait a minute.
FUCKING FINALLY, I think to myself “Hey, something doesn’t feel right here”.
DUH x 1,000,000.
I got that sinking feeling in my stomach.
Holy shit. I’ve been scammed.
Then, I just stood there in the cereal aisle for a few minutes, with my half-filled cart, looking like an over aged wanna be skate rat mixed with a raging soccer mom with my leggings, Vans, hoodie, and ball cap, and no makeup thinking “Fucking awesome. I can’t BELIEVE what a dumbass I am.”
Just to confirm, at this point, I FINALLY actually CALLED my boss on the PHONE to ASK him if he REALLY sent me the gift card requests. I already knew the answer. “No”. We chatted for a bit and he was very sympathetic (although he HAD to be thinking “What a moron.”). He did tell me that it may make me feel better to know that an executive he knows wired like $100k to a fake business. I did make me feel better.
About that time, I get a text from my friend. “Got time to chat?”. I was way too mortified to tell her “Well, no, I’m hyperventilating in the Walmart cereal aisle ‘cuz I just got scammed out of $400.” I just said “Is later ok?”
Back to the customer service desk, even though deep down I knew there was nothing they could do. Damn if they didn’t try. It was like returning something at Costco without a receipt. Those people will bend over backwards to find your shit in their system, because by God, they’re taking it back, even if you didn’t buy it at Costco.
Despite their efforts and graciousness, they couldn’t do anything and suggested I call Google and then my bank.
Google tried to help, too and told me they’ve received a lot of calls about this scam. Ok, so I’m not the ONLY complete fool on the planet. There are more of me out there. Nonetheless, they couldn’t do anything either, but they were very helpful.
While all this was happening and I’m on hold here and there, I started to look around and noticed the giant signs at the customer service desk that warned against scams and such. Huh. And then I thought, “Walmart manager lady did not think ANYTHING of me doing all of this ridiculous shit.”
Then I started listening to the other customers as they came up to the desk. I couldn’t help it. I was freaking camped out there trying to fix my pathetic life. One older gentleman said he was there to pick up the case of Ensure that Walmart called him about. He said a lady called and said it was ready for pick up at the customer service desk. The lady at the desk had no earthly idea what he was talking about. “SCAM!” I thought. It wasn’t though. She found it.
Called my bank. Explained what happened. They, too, were very friendly. Girlfriend cut off my debit card though. Was that necessary? Oh well, fine. I quite enjoy updating all the automatic payments attached to my card. New card will be issued and shipped to me in 5-10 days. Hope none of my auto payments hit within that time frame.
They then advised me to call another number (still the same bank) to report the fraudulent activity and request a credit.
Got back on the phone and heard “I love your shoes!” from another customer at the service desk. Even though I was on the phone and hating life, of course I whispered “Thanks! I just got them this morning!” She commented on the convenience of slip on shoes. Soul sisters. Oh, I just made a pun!
I had to move away from the customer service desk as they were getting busier and their phone kept ringing really loudly and it reminded me of Boy Scout’s highly annoying text notifications that he will NEVER turn off and I was starting to twitch. He just loves that morse code sounding bullshit and I CANNOT stand it. I wedged myself over by the little kiosk where they have the forms for wiring money (that I’ve never noticed in my entire life). So fitting. At this point, everything is a scam to me. Any “wire transaction”, any “gift card” request, any call from Walmart saying your Ensure is ready for pick up…
About that time, I see and hear one of my neighbors. He seemed to be in a hurry. He spotted me despite my appearance and waved. Even though I looked like death and I was in scam hell, I sheepishly waved back with the little tips of my fingers and gave a crooked smile. “Hey Burt.” I heard him ask someone if they had VISA cards. It was like he needed one really fast for his boss. I thought “SCAM!” I was losing my grip on reality at this point. On the contrary, I was really impressed with how calm I was. If I was in my 20s, I would have been hysterically crying at this point and calling my mommy instead of the 5,000 customer service agents I was chatting it up with.
I will say that my experience at the customer service desk gave me a WHOLE new appreciation for people. Both customers and employees. The shit they deal with. Mercy.
Ok, back to calling my bank again to report the fraudulent activity and request a credit. Girlfriend who cut off my debit card said when I call back, to choose option 7, then 5. Ok, cool. Got it.
I call. There is no fucking option 7. I try it anyway. Black hole. Back to the beginning of the phone tree. I reach a human again and they give me the same instructions. “That would be great, however there is no option 7”. “Really? That’s strange. That’s what our instructions say to do. Ok, let me get my manager and she can assist you.” Manager gets on the phone and transfers me. BACK to the SAME phone tree, with NO OPTION 7. I just hit a random number.
At this point, my fucking salami is about to start growing shit, but damn if I’m leaving Wally World without finishing Boy Scout’s expertly diagrammed list. It’s like a fucking blueprint. With the phone held up to my ear with one hand, I use my elbow and my other hand to start moseying down the rest of the aisles. It’s fine. It’s Walmart.
After hitting the random number, Charles answers and he is ON FIRE. Like the happiest, most customer servicy person I’ve ever talked to. I was like “Charles. Thank God it’s you. I need to get out of Walmart and there is no option 7.” After explaining things to Charles, he was like “Oh Jesus, we changed up our damn phone tree and those fucking morons didn’t get the dang memo.” He didn’t actually say it like that but he did say they changed the phone tree recently. He went on to say “Well, I don’t know why they just couldn’t send you the claim form. I just emailed it to you.” “That’s it?” “Yep, and don’t even bother to print it out and mail it. Just fill it out online, snap a pic and email it back to me.” Oh geez. Snapping pics is what got me into this shit.
“Ok, got it. Thanks Charles (I think I love you).”
I finished my shopping and checked out. My cashier recognized me from the customer service desk and was anxious to hear my update. I told her I doubted anything could be done but it could have been worse; I could have gotten seven more gift cards. She looked at me with doe eyes.
The Walmart cashier looked at me with doe eyes.
I think she wanted to give me a hug.
I actually did text Boy Scout while all this was happening, as someone needed to experience my shit show with me in real time, and basically told him to clear a path to the wine when I arrived (with my tail between my legs). He was sympathetic of course (he has learned). This was one of those times when I really wanted it to be his fault, but nope, this was ALL me. I did this ALL by myself. “Dickerson.”
I did the whole “WHY!!!???” thing (oh lord, I just envisioned Nancy Kerrigan) the entire way home and pretty much all-night long. “Why didn’t I just call my boss from the beginning?” “Why did I not think his email was strange?” “Why am I such a dumbass?” “Why didn’t I wear a better bra?”
I got home. I didn’t text my mom or my friends (with whom I normally share every detail of my life). I just finished up what little bit of work I could still concentrate on and after that, got my wine and my dogs and chilled. Oh, and I filled out the fraud form and sent it back to Charles. That part took about 2 seconds.
I did also notify my IT department right after I realized I was scammed, even though I was mortified to tell them, so they could send out a message to the company in case the scammers tried it again and someone else was also a dumbass. I work with a bunch of smart IT people and they actually warn us about scams all the time. Huh. I’m sure they were like “Seriously Dawn? What a dumbass.” And I texted my friend/co-worker while I was in Wally World who replied “I can’t believe you fell for that. You are way too young to fall for that.” That made me feel better. No, no it didn’t. She was right though. Only sweet, elderly people get scammed. WTF?!
I know there’s a snowball’s chance in hell that I’ll see that $400 again, but it could have been a lot more. And hey, I got a $140 metal chopstick wall of death art thing for free that I’ll never use (never say never, right?).
Although I’ll miss that money and the whole experience really sucked, not to mention I’m so embarrassed…like a kid in school who farts really loud by accident in a quiet classroom, I was proud of myself for not losing my shit and I gained a new appreciation for folks who work in the customer service industry. All the people I spoke to sincerely wanted to help me. It was really nice.
With all the negative stuff that’s happening in the world, and since I know that EVERYONE has their shit, like my BFF losing her dog, other friends dealing with aging parents or no parents, and other horrible things that I don’t want to even think about, I am certainly not going to complain about losing $400 (and my pride), especially when it was MY fuck up. I own it.
I want to stop thinking about it though and move on, so I’m hoping that if I can I share it with the entire world (well all my FB friends and my 34 blog subscribers), that I can. Although I fully expect to be made fun of and that’s ok. I can take it. If you can’t laugh at yourself after all…
Therefore, I welcome you all to bask in the glory of not being me that day (2 days ago) and I encourage you to keep your shit together through your next unfortunate and/or highly embarrassing situation, and to find some morsel of goodness from my story to help you get through your shit.
Peace, love, happiness, humility, cheers.