A Tale of Resurrection

America In London

I'm dead.  I don't feel dead.  And, while I'm getting up there in years, I don't think I look dead either.  The usual signs like lack of a heart beat, pale skin, bloating, and hideous odours just aren't there.  Ok, well, maybe a little bloating, but you get that sometimes.  It alone doesn't mean you're dead!

According to Citibank, though, I died about three years ago and they reported as much to US credit agencies.  Being a huge multi-national bank, of course, they couldn't be wrong.  Could they?

I discovered my death when Rob and I tried to open a bank account back in the US after that horror of a bank, HSBC America, closed our account on a whim.  We contacted the bank branch that my family has been with for the past 35 years.  They were happy to do it all by email and we sent them the details.  A return email stated that while they were happy to open an account for Rob, their credit agency, Experian, said I was dead.  So, I could not be on the account.  And, so the saga began.

The bank told me I had to straighten things out with Experian and also get a letter from the Social Security Administration saying that my Social Security number was not "deceased".  A 35 year relationship obviously means nothing when the computer says, "No".