A few months ago, we moved into a new (for us at least) house in South San Jose. After a bit (ok, a LOT) of work it was very home-y. One of the charms was that instead of a central mailbox shared by a block of residents, the mail delivery is personalized here. The carrier walks it up to your door.
How quaint.
Last Friday, late afternoon, I hear the doorbell ring. I opened the door to see a Santa Clara County Sheriff’s Deputy on my stoop.
After madly thinking what the hell I did to draw his attention, he proceeded to tell me that they apprehended an individual who had stolen our mail, in particular, those “convenience” checks sent by your credit card company.
One of the checks had been torn off. This dirtbag had either passed it off, or tried to pass it off.
Motherfucker. So now I have to cancel that card, and have a fraud alert on my account (fortunately, it hadn’t cleared).
Apparently this guy had some other lady’s checkbook, and had written a check to himself for cash, as well as meth and heroin in his possession.
