How to Charge With Someone Else's Credit Card

I know it's none of my business but I regularly check out what other folks are putting on the conveyor belt at the grocery store checkout. I get curious about what they're buying, mostly because there's something inordinately fascinating about the possible stories behind why someone buys what they do.

Is the emaciated woman with four cartons of ice cream buying that for a birthday party? Or is she going to take that ice cream home, grab a spoon, wolf down two of the cartons, run to the bathroom, make herself vomit and then go polish off the other two?

Of course, I'll most likely never know, but I can't stop my mind from creating these sort of "Choose Your Own Adventure" book kinds of scenarios for the people that cross my path. As the book covers say, "You're the hero of the story! Choose from one possible ending."

Last night I found myself in line at my local Albertson's grocery store, watching what the woman in front of me was putting on the conveyor belt. She was a petite white woman, probably in her mid to late twenties with a long blond pony tail. Her skin was that I-love-tanning-salons orange, quite an unattractive contrast to her hot pink lipstick. The lipstick matched her hot pink track suit, which in turn matched her long, fake, square-cut nails.

As I was contemplating this apocalyptic case of matchy-match-ness, my eyes traveled to the conveyor belt to see what was being rung up. Her only purchases? Two American Express gift cards totaling $150 and a couple of bottles of wine. I was just beginning to speculate on what she might be about to do with these purchases when the cashier said, "Will that be debit or credit?"

Hot Pink replied, "Credit," pulled a card out of her wallet and prepared to swipe it.

Cashier Boy put the swiping on pause by saying, "I'll just need to see the card and some ID." I figured he must be asking for ID because he wanted to make sure she wasn't an underage liquor buyer, even though she sure looked well over 21 to me.

Hot Pink pulled out her ID, handed it over and then said, "The names don't match because it's not my card. It's my dad's card."

And that's when I got really interested in the situation. It was clearly time to pull out the little notebook I carry around and write down what they were saying. I mean, was this cashier really going to let some random woman who was trying to buy $168.89 worth of Amex gift cards and liquor charge it to someone else's card? Indeed, his voice was unsure as he asked, "Well, um, is your dad here in the store?"

Hot Pink actually snapped back at him, "No, he's in Missouri! He just sent me this card this week so I can use it. I just moved here."

Cashier Boy seemed even more unsure of what he should do and so he replied, "Well, um, I'm going to have to go ask my manager to approve this. I'll be right back."

He walked away as Hot Pink began to drum her nails on that little counter that holds the card-swiper. Both her eyes and mine followed Cashier Boy to a little door a few feet away. He knocked and a short guy with glasses answered. They discussed the whole thing in full view of everybody, including several episodes of looking down at the card, looking at her ID and then peering out the door at Hot Pink.

Finally, after a few moments, the manager began to walk back toward the checkout counter. Cashier Boy followed along behind him, looking like someone who's relieved that a tough decision has been taken out of his hands.

"So, this isn't your card?" asked the manager.

Hot Pink's tone was even nastier and more exasperated than before. "As I already explained, it's my dad's card. He sent it to me for me to use. I just moved here and I don't have any money."

The more time I stood behind Hot Pink, the more I thought about how smart it would be for someone who's just stolen a credit card to buy Amex gift cards with it. Those gift cards are untraceable, pretty much just like cash. So Hot Pink can chuck that credit card in the trash if she wants and have $150 to spend as she pleases, plus some wine to get crunk with, all without worrying about getting caught.

On the other hand, if she really does have her father's card, what if she has it without his permission? And what if she goes around charging on it without his consent? Guess what, if he doesn't want to pay the bill when it comes he has no choice but to prosecute his daughter. How many daddies wanna do that?

The manager must not have thought too deeply about either of those scenarios though because he eyeballed her again for a few moments and then he nodded, turned to the cashier and said, "It's OK. Go ahead and ring it up."

Ring it up? What the... *&#^%@^!!!

So all I have to do is walk into a grocery store and say, "It's my daddy's card!" and then I'm good to go? $168.89 good to go, to be exact!

I immediately began to think about how if Hot Pink's tan was her actual skin color, she probably wouldn't be getting that, "It's OK. Go ahead and ring it up," response.

Heck, turn Hot Pink into Chris Brown and see what happens. Nope, forget Chris Brown! Morph Hot Pink into pretty much any black person you know and see if it goes down all, "It's OK. Go ahead and ring it up." Or, make Hot Pink into a Latino male with a bald head and see what happens.

I almost want to pay somebody to roll up on the Albertson's and see if they get the same response. Heck, I was tempted to tell Cashier Boy that it would be, "Credit," and, "It's my dad's card," just to see what his behind would do.

I wanted to say to him, "I'll bet you wouldn't have let her use that card if she was black!" But how do you come right out like that in the grocery store? No one's ever gonna reply, "You know, you're absolutely right! I sure wouldn't have."

Instead, as he was ringing my stuff up I said, "That's odd to see someone whose name isn't on a card getting to use it. It makes me wonder if just anybody could use my card and say they're my daughter."

He kept scanning stuff without responding so I said, "And it's a shame because then the dad will get stuck with the bill unless he wants to prosecute her. If it's really her dad anyway."

Cashier Boy nodded his head in agreement, "Yep, I've had it happen to me before." He shrugged nonchalantly and then said, "It probably wasn't her dad's card."

WHAT??? So this cashier didn't even think it was Hot Pink's card! "So why let her charge it if you don't even think it's her card?" I asked.

"Well, the manager approved it so it's out of my hands. I'm not responsible. And besides, the credit card companies cover the loss."

This was just a little too much for me to process all at once. One, I was thinking that the situation wouldn't have even happened if Hot Pink's skin color was different and two, I was confronted with Cashier Boy's nonchalance because the credit card company just gets to pass fraud costs along to all of us consumers.

I was left speechless as Cashier Boy said, "Thank you for shopping at Albertson's."

Despite it all, I wonder, was it just a spoiled twenty-something getting to use daddy's credit card? Was I assuming things were going on that actually weren't? Would the store do the same for someone who's not white? And wouldn't it be just easier if stores had a policy where if it's not your name on the card, you don't get to use it?