I Just Want to Wash My Jeans and T-shirt

So my phone battery died. I had an iPhone 12 with 64 GB of memory that was not enough to do the stuff I wanted to do because every single time I took a picture or opened an app or just pointed my peepers in the direction of the Face ID box, the damn thing said, “Memory full.”

We were wanting to wash our clothes at a small seaside motel along the California coast. It had washing machines and dryers that could use some app or other to pay and then wirelessly transmit “paid” to the machine and off you’d go.

I went to scan the QR code so we could have clean clothes for dinner and that’s when my phone died. Right at that moment. I’d already tossed the Tide pod into the damn washer, even.

I went back to the room and told her I needed her phone to pay for the washer/dryer business.

She didn’t hesitate because it was right around noon and she was busy watching her daily soap, anyway, so she wouldn’t miss the phone for that amount of time. Otherwise, I can tell you, she’d probably have some serious DTs if I walked out of the room with her phone. That’s what I’m saying.

So, anyway, I get back to the washer/dryer room and open up her camera app and scan the QR code on the washer. It takes me to this other app which I download and which has all kinds of scrolling and popup ads, and then this thing slides into view and says, "pay here." I click on it and it asks for a credit card number and I do that thing and give it all of my information and expiration dates and then hit enter and nothing happens.

I have no effing idea what happened to the credit card info I just entered, but I notice immediately that the phone is getting text after text from the carrier company Cricket.

My friend once said to me, after I told him I only paid the ridiculously low amount of $X per month for cell service: “What the fuck? What…do you have a Cricket phone or something?”

Yes, yes, I do.

And "Cricket" was right now calling. Or texting. Or, actually, both.

First the phone rang and I didn’t recognize the number, so I didn’t answer. Then I got a text from the same number that said, “This is Cricket Customer Service,” or something of the sort.

“We have detected suspicious activity on your phone so we need you to enter your pin number now to make sure it’s you.”

I do that. I enter my pin. It's a number.

And nothing happens when I do. I don’t get a text back, I don’t get a phone call. I don’t get a “hey, thanks for sending me your digital fingerprint so I can go in and steal all of your everything.”

I cannot get the washing machine to work at all now so I go back to the motel room and tell her as much while I am plugging my own phone into the wall outlet. We decide we will walk up to the front desk and see if we can unscrew the problem, maybe get them to help us figure out how to pay for a coin-less wash and dry of clothes that really need to be washed and dried.

By the time she gets her shoes on, my phone powers up and dings at me like I’ve got 99 emails coming in. Like the Luftballons. You remember the Luftballons song. I know you do.

I check it quickly and see that it’s not 99 but it is three e-mails and they are all from my bank, wanting to confirm withdrawals and transfers and identity verification checks.

$8000 moved here.

$100 moved there.

More money than you have or, more accurately, more money than you have ever had in your checking account—ever in the entire whole of your life—is being requested as a withdrawal.

“Hello? YourBank Customer Service speaking. How can I help you?”

“Um…can you help me unfornicate this situation? It’s not me, it never was me and I’m not sure what’s happening to me, but it all started when I was trying to wash my clothes in a washing machine in a seaside motel along the California coast…”

“Sir, it seems you just called in and verified your identity with your pin…didn’t you? In order to conduct a Zelle transfer of $1000? Sir? Sir…?”

I'm thinking a lot of things right now, I suppose, but mostly I'm thinking this:

Looks like we're gonna be wearing dirty jeans for quite a while.