My Twenty-Nine Cents' Worth

Since I've been working full time at a museum, I haven't spent much time writing my blog. Not that I haven't wanted to. Things keep happening that seem to be begging for a blogging.

I've seen stuff involving tow trucks, burger joints, drivers flying-on-foot, police officers, and bureaucracy, but I'm not going to write about any of those anemic misadventures. Not when I've got this:

The Day I Discovered That Former Employment with Time, Inc is the Gift That Keeps On Giving (With Apologies to Hallmark)

In a nutshell, last year, I overpaid my corporate American Express bill before I left my employment with Southern Living magazine, which, as you may know, is a subsidiary of Time Inc.  American Express owes me $10.71, which they have informed me by letter on at least two separate occasions.

The letters have been mailed to my Time Inc corporate address of record, so they always wind up at Southern Living. On at least two occasions in the 9 months since I left Southern Living, two of my former colleagues have been kind enough to forward the letters to me, suggesting that I get Amex to refund my money. 

On the second occasion, the day I wrote this bitter little diatribe, I decided to follow through and call American Express to do just that. Here's what happened:

I got American Express on the phone. They were more than willing to help. The second customer service representative I spoke to at AMEX determined that because Time, Inc has placed restrictions on its corporate accounts to monitor all funds leaving said accounts, I would need to talk to a corporate account program administrator at Time, Inc to get the Fortune 500 company to release the $10.71 to me.

The AMEX guy was so helpful that he not only looked up the number for the Time, Inc program administrators, but he was also willing to patch me through directly to one of them. What a guy.

At Time, Inc, the program administrator I got was named Judy. Judy said that, "Well our policy says that you're only supposed to use the corporate card for business purposes. So evidently, you used it for some personal charges, is that right?"

So now, 9 months after I have left Time Inc behind -- having been shown the door with many other fine responsible professionals just so the fat cats at the top of the food chain could heap our minuscule salaries upon the massive pile of dough they continue to rake in for themselves--nine months after I left the company with a CREDIT on my corporate account, now, Judy in New York wants to interrogate me.

Judy in New York wants to know if I put a personal charge on my NOW-CLOSED corporate card, which I PAID OFF IN FULL NINE MONTHS AGO out of my own pocket. 

I didn't bite. "I don't really recall exactly why I overpaid by $10.71 sometime last year," I said to Judy. Which, by the way, was true.

"Well, see, that's just what we have to determine before I can release any funds to you," she said. "Do you happen to remember which statement you overpaid on?"

At this point, I think you might be proud of the restraint in my response. I said, "You know what, Judy, why don't you just" --and here's the part where you'll be proud -- "keep the money and forget about it?"

That seemed to make Judy very happy. I sort of had the feeling that, until the day I sauntered into her life, poor Judy had had a $10.71-shaped hole in her heart, that only I was able to fill. 

In any case, it was worth $10.71 just to not have to deal with Time Inc, ever again. In fact, I'm willing to go as high as $11, if push comes to shove.

I do hope the bean counters can rest easy now.