Chip-card

The other day I received a new credit-card in the mail.
Not a trial card or some con-job.
But a new version of the one actual credit-card I have.
One a’ them new chip-jobbies with the embedded computer-chip. Supposedly more secure than the cards with the magnetic stripe; which this new card also has, for merchants without chip-readers.
I didn’t see it until yesterday, since I didn’t get to my mail until then. The envelope had a Westerville, Ohio return address, so I suspected it was a gift solicitation for American Motorcycle Association in Westerville. Of which I am a member.
There was a peel-off label on the card that said it needed to be activated, “a simple three-minute process of going to Chase.com with your computer” — or text, or call.
So I set the card aside to activate later.
I tried last night. Chase wanted a log-in, or set up an account. I happen to already have an account, but what if I didn’t? If I needed to register, goodbye to the three minutes.
And every site on the Internet wants a log-in; some require it.
Okay, I logged in.
“We’re sorry. You’re logging in from a computer we don’t recognize. You’ll have to verify.”
WHAT?! This is the same rig I’ve logged in from before. So much for three minutes.
“Please indicate how you want to receive your verification-code; e-mail. text, phonecall-voice, or call us.”
I studied the options. The e-mail address they had was wrong, and I didn’t know if they had my cellphone number so they could text. The phone-number they had was my landline, so I clicked “voice.” I couldn’t call them because I had already shredded their letter indicating an 800-number to call.
So far, 10 minutes .
My landline rang. I accidentally dropped the handset back in its cradle, hanging up the call.
12 minutes.
I tried again, set up to answer my landline, which I never do.
A disembodied female voice spit out the verification-code, which I was unable to write down. Thankfully I could repeat the message by pressing “pound.”
15 minutes.
I entered the verification-code into my computer for their site. It allowed me to log-in.
18 minutes.
Security-questions: “maiden-name of your mother,” etc.
20 minutes.
“Congratulations, you have successfully activated your card.”
Oh no. I hope I don’t get one of their surveys to detail my “site-experience,” for which I qualify for a $500 prize-drawing.
Seems everyone is doing that. Can’t I just buy stamps at the post-office? Need I detail my post-office experience?
Amazingly, that didn’t happen.
22 minutes.
Now, sign my new credit-card.
Easier said than done.
Their silly signature-stripe wouldn’t take ink.
That’s all I need. “We can’t take your card. It isn’t signed.”
I called the Customer-Service 800-number on the back of the card.
“For Customer-Service please call the 800-number on the back of your card. We’re sorry for the inconvenience.”
I tried again.
Same message.
27 minutes.
Congratulations Chase. Activating my card took almost a half-hour, far more than the “easy three minutes” you predicted.
And I may get sent packing by the motel 300 miles from home because I can’t sign my card.
And I ain’t throwing out my old card until I see the new card works.