So, I called up my bank to say "where the fuck is my debit card?" and they insist that it was shipped overnight on Wednesday afternoon. So, I ask them for the tracking number.
With this, I'm able to find out that not only was it sent to the wrong city in France, but because my bank accidentally did not label it a priority shipment it's going to take a while to get here. This, even though I paid my bank extra money to ship priority overnight.
I then call up Wachovia to rip them a new asshole. I go through the lower rung people until I finally get someone with enough authority to help me. She calls UPS while I'm on hold and comes back and admits that either they or UPS fucked up.
I point out that that is all well and good - but that admitting the fuck up doesn't put food on my table or nicotine in my bloodstream.
She then transfer me to a higher up person who offers to Western Union me a small amount of money to get through the weekend. "We'd be happy to waive our normal Western Union fee!"
How lovely of them.
Anyway she puts me on hold again for a while and comes back with the Western Union control code and I head off to La Poste to pick up the money.
When I get there the nightmare begins anew.
1. My passport lists my name as "Bartolomew" (my dad forgot the "h") but the bank sent the money to "Bart." It takes me a while to explain the concept of diminutive names.
2. She had told me that the first digit of the control code was "A". He explains that's impossible because it has to be all numerals. Thinking fast I say "Try an eight!" Bingo. That works.
3. He then tells me that he can't release the funds until I can tell him who sent me the money. I explain to him the problem and that it could be my bank's name or it could be my own name. He tries my name first. Full of fail. Then tries the bank name. Full of win.
4. Next he tells me that I have to give them the name of the city of the sender. Thinking of my local bank branch I say "Lincroft?" He just shakes his head. Then, from somwhere out of my asshole, I say "How about Charlotte!" Bingo! How the fuck I somehow knew that Wachovia's headquarters was in Charlotte I'll never know. It's like Loki was in my brain giving me a helping hand.