Subversion-*

*-At least as subversive as a middle class white guy from the suburbs can get

Recently, I’ve been thinking about all of those electronic signatures I’ve been leaving all over the place, when I’m using my debit/credit card. You know, when you’re checking out and you’re asked to “Sign Here” on that little electronic pad? Then you click “accept” and then the store has permission to pull some outrageous amount out of your checking account for some over-priced doodad that you probably didn’t need in the first place.

I was thinking about how crazy it was that so many of my purchases are being approved with a signature that in no way shape or form matches my real signature. Not that my real signature is any gem to start with, and if I can do it twice in a row the same way, I’m pretty proud of myself. Now these stores are asking for my written approval for purchases on some device that is cramped, placed at screwy angels and the end product looks like it was scratched out on one of those etch-a-sketch’s that I had growing up. Really. I mean, like, this crap is going to be any definitive proof that I actually signed and approved the purchase, right?

So, in my own little rebellion against the man, I’ve stopped writing my name on these devices. I’ve started writing “Hi Mom”, “I didn’t approve this”, “Donkey Kong”, “Obama’s Mama”, and the ever popular “Yea Baby!”. Sometimes, I’m expecting some mall security types to come charging around the corner, a donut in one hand and an oversized Motorola radio in the other, ready to give hot pursuit to the latest miscreant. Other times, I’ll feel a little weird, or, even worse, I’ll start giggling to myself, which leads the typical store clerk to look at me like I am a little weird. Usually, nothing happens and the world moves on.

This weekend, I was in Sephora, with my youngest daughter, finishing up our holiday shopping. After standing in line for 20 minutes, to purchase yet another product for my wife (which I really don’t think that she needs, but, what do I know. At least that’s what she tells me), we were laughing and having a good time, when the next robo clerk asked us to step up to the counter.

On a side note, shouldn’t the last place that a store asks you if you found everything, be at the checkout counter? Shouldn’t you have helped me out prior to this point, so I’d be spending more of my hard earned cash in your store? And, if I didn’t find everything I wanted, and your service was so poor that it didn’t help me until up to this point, do you really think I’m interested in jumping out of line, tying to find something all over again, and getting back in line? Maybe you should ask that questions before I’ve decided to leave your store? Eh, what do I know.

Anyway…

So, this overly attractive and perfectly made-up young lady proceeded to process our order, and it came time to sign in the box. Feeling a little full of myself, I wrote “I’m the Man!” and clicked accept. I put my card away and looked up to see her staring at her screen, and starting to laugh. In a panic, I asked “Did you see that?”

She replied “Yes, and it was pretty funny. Come to think of it, I don’t think there is anything I could do about it if I wanted to, so have yourself a good afternoon”.

It’s a great day when you can stick it to the man, and have a good laugh about it.