Today, at 32 years old, I entered my first police station. This is a good thing as I don’t have a criminal record and doubt that I ever will. I had to file a police report on identity theft. I went home sick from work this morning only to find in the mailbox this afternoon that I’ve been denied for a credit card I never applied for at a store I wouldn’t be caught dead shopping in. (Sorry, you can take the girl out of Long Island, but you can’t take the Long Island out of the girl).
The whole idea of identity theft is scary and most people don’t think twice about it. I know I didn’t. I don’t use Wi-Fi, I don’t save credit card information on websites, and I don’t save passwords online. I doubt that I even have good credit, so if someone wants to really steal my identity, could you ask them to take all of my student loans, too?
(If this has happened to you, you know how horrible it feels. It feels like a betrayal or a violation. Unfortunately, it’s one of the negatives that has come our way in the electronic age. )
Sitting in the police station today felt strange. At first, I felt scared and vulnerable. The woman at the front window was on the phone and didn’t give me the time of day. Then, a policeman came out from behind and asked if he could help me. I sat down with him at a table and he started filling out my police report for identity theft. As I sat there, I kept peering into the back room through the glass. I felt like a little kid. My eyes widened when I saw what looked like a real cell! It just didn’t feel real, but that could’ve also been the Dayquil talking. Looking back now, it felt like a mash-up between a popular T.V show Taxi and the famous Police Academy movies.
Taxi – a sitcom that aired from 1978-1982.