PayPal: A Diatribe

Listen to this ridiculousness…


As you all know, I'm having my blog re-designed into something super fabulous by this lovely lady. We used PayPal to complete the transaction (which she's done a million times, and I've used PayPal for years with no issues). Anyway, I went to paypal to pay for it and they took the money out of my account. I thought all was hunkey dorey.

Then the fun began.

Paypal sent both she and I notices that my account has been frozen until I verify that I am who I say I am by updating my security settings. The email said I have to go to the PayPal website and change my password and my password questions.

Okay, well that’s dumb, but I’ll do it.

I go to the website, and before I can even get to the part where I have to change my password, I have to give them the FULL account number of the bank account that my paypal account is registered to. I don't have it memorized (do any of you have your bank account numbers memorized?), so I had to wait until I got home last night to look it up. Here is where my pulse starts quickening and I can feel my blood pressure starting to raise.

I had The Hubs look up the bank account number and went back to the website to type it in. Then I finally get to the screen where I can change my password and password questions.

Done, right?

Wrong. Next, they tell me that they have to verify my address before they can lift the “dispute”. In order to verify my address, they now need me to link a credit card to my account. I screamed "Are you serious?!" at the computer, but got no response, so I assumed it was, in fact, seriously requiring me to do this. So I dug through my cavernous hole of a purse and found a card. I had The Hubs put in all the numbers and the code on the back and my address and the name of our first born son.

Done, right?

Wrong. At this point, I'm swearing and gesturing dangerously behind my husband who is doing all of the finger-work at the computer. Now, they need a phone number so that PayPal can call me to verify my address. Now, setting aside that completely illogical thought process, I'm thinking, "I really want to get this over with so that I can play in my pretty new interweb home. This HAS to be the last step. And what are my options, anyway, short of shoving my fist inside my husband's computer and hoping to strangle a PayPal developer on the other end?"

I give them my phone number and I have the choice of “have PayPal call now” or “have PayPal call in one minute”. Dear God, I don't want to give PayPal another nanosecond of my time or thought, so check the little button to “have PayPal call now” and hit "Submit".

Done, right? (You lovely blog readers out there on the interwebs are so smart that I bet you know where this is going...)

Wrong! The next screen tells me that they don’t accept cell phone lines for verification and in order to verify my address through a phone call, it must be a land-line. Who decided to be all dependent on technology and not have a land-line in her house?

Thaaaaat's right. Me.

However, sweet and helpful and accomodating as they are, PayPal offered me yet another way to "resolve my dispute" (the dispute that THEY initiated, mind you.), as if giving them my full bank account information, providing them with a new password and password questions, linking a valid credit card with a billing address to my account, giving them my cell phone number (which I don't give to anybody), promising them my first born child (only if he turns out to be a dud, but don't tell PayPal that), and the promise to never watch trashy reality tv again weren't enough. ("Love In The Wild", Mama's gonna miss you.)

Turns out, after all this technology, and trying to pay for something through an "easy and convenient" electronic method, I'm now reduced to waiting on snail mail. Who would have thought, in this day and age, my electronic purchase would be dependent on a land line and snail mail?! My alternate option to verify my address requires Paypal to send me a letter (like, acutally, in the mailbox) with some sort of code on it. PayPal's website said "...it should take days to receive this letter..." No, really, PayPal. Days? Thank you for being so specific.

When days are up and I finally receive their letter, I have to go back to the website and enter this code. This magical code that is somehow acceptable notice that IyamwhatIyam, that none of the other information I provided to them was able to do.

Done, right?

Who the hell knows. I'll let you know what other hoops lie ahead after I enter the code. What else do you think they could possibly make me do?

All I know is: I'm doing this for you, my Blogland Lovers.

Y'all better appreciate. :-P