So I figure, why not join the rest of America, deep in debt, watching retirement bear down on me like a runaway train.
I'm coming to Phoenix for Thrillerfest. Screw the expense. Want to help? You can always contribute to what promises to be a crippling bar tab.
The kind people at ITW are comping my banquet ticket, because they want to witness, in person, the soul crushing blow when one of the other debut novelists takes home the award. Then they'll point and jeer, chanting
Loser Loser Loser.
I can live with that.
But, and I can't stress this enough, I hate PayPal. Seriously. I hate PayPal. I went to the site to pay my fee, with a credit card because I am an American, and they said my account was restricted because I hadn't OKed the most recent change in the Terms of Service, as if anyone except spammers had contacted me from PayPal about anything in the past year.
So I said, fine, where do I do that? I go to the TOS page and I've bought fucking homes with less legal bullshit. So I wade through it, my eyes glazing over, spending the better part of an hour, then I get to the end and THERE'S NO FUCKING PLACE TO OK THE TERMS OF SERVICE! I CAN'T FIND THE BUTTON. Help is no help. Contact is a lot like SETI, I send out messages and wait for signs of life. I keep circling back, doing it again and again, kicking serious OCD, until I'm now thinking of homicide and not the high-paying fictional kind.
So now I don't know what to do. Anyone at ITW who can take my credit card number? (Don't even try, Mr. Banks). Please, help me out here. I can't write a check because it will bounce higher than Mr. Jordan can jump. I can't get through to the Nazi fucks at PayPal. I am so screwed.
If you go to Phoenix and see sleeping in the lobby, do me a favor and slip me a cracker or two.
Really, writing the book was easier than booking this trip.
7 comments:
Man, that blows. I'm not fond of paypal. Partly because it's in my husband's name. And every time I try to use my credit card, they say an account already exist, because our cards are linked, but since I don't have a deep voice or chest hairs, I'm not important.
They drive me nuts.
Can you email ITT and see if they can do something about it? Really, paypal for Bouchercon was a bit of a headache as well. At least here. Because once I cracked my husband's password, they automatically moved money around in his accounts and boy, was he ever pissed off, even though he told me to book it...
Geesh, hope my comment didn't prompt the removal of that new romantic post!
Hello, Mr Terry Nwa. I am a representative of the ITW and I would very much like to take your credit card. You can trust me, because our security is really tight and we have firewalls coming out of our arse. So feel free to email me or my representative Raymond Banks with your credit card number. Please look for my new techno-noir-thriller HARD DISK, coming soon.
Thank you
P.S. - My apologies for being anonymous, but I cannot use a computer.
I haven't registered yet, but just looking at the forms I can tell already it's going to be fun like root canal. Jesus. What a pain in the ass.
You have my jealously Mr Terrenoire. I'd love to go, but can't. So can you do my smile of crushing defeat too? Then if anyone asks what's up with your face, you can blame me.
Hold on, that didn't come out right...
Er... good luck!
Ah, Stuart, I was looking forward to hearing your acceptance speech.
Don't worry, I'll pick up the award for you and keep it safe.
I opened a Paypal account so Sandra could pay me for my Spinetingler story.
I can't figure how to get it out of the account, so it will stay there forever. When I die, nobody will know it's there because they won't be able to get into my email to know that I even have an account.
I guess someday Paypal will take the money back?
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