Family phone list reminds us relationships change over time

Once every half dozen years or so exasperation drives me to organize and type a directory of frequently used phone numbers that I can tape to our refrigerator. Today was such a day.  I yanked down the old directory that had been a permanent refrigerator adornment since--oh, I cannot remember.  The scribbles, the crossings out, the additions and deletions had rendered it no longer decipherable.

There is nothing like an old address book or phone list to remind us of the fluidity of relationships. While most people whose numbers warranted posting on our refrigerator a few years ago have remained put, some have not.  A few moved. A few fell out of contact. Two have died.

I took the time spent reconstructing our family phone directory to reflect.  Not only did I consider the reasons some contacts no longer need posting, I considered how new contacts had emerged.  Why do people come and go in our lives?

Deleting contact information for a beloved uncle who passed away a couple of years ago brought tears.  This man, the brother of my late father, was the last living connection to a generation on one side of my family. Chances are forever gone to chat with him about his growing up years as my father’s younger brother in rural Tennessee.  Firsthand accounts of their meager existence during the Great Depression will never again come my way. Why didn’t I listen better?

Removed from our list of regular contacts is a wonderful man and father who lived only a few houses away. He died tragically a few years ago, leaving his wife to raise their three children and leaving our neighborhood with a stark void.  We came to adore this man. We miss him still.

With a heavy heart, I left out contact information for a family member with whom I was once close. I am sad and ashamed to admit that at the core of this removal was a dispute over money. Tempers flared over perceived injustices a few years ago and harsh words sealed  the fate of  a relationship broken.

Neighbors moved out over the years and new ones moved in. Among the new people  great friends have emerged. I added them to our regular list of contacts with gratitude.

Gone are a handful of my sons’ friends, not through moving, but through moving on.  My sons are now teens and their sets of close friends bear little resemblance to the sets of friends they had just a few years ago.  Children mature and their interests change, and with them taste in friends.  I smiled as I added new names.

The fresh, neat, new list hangs on the side of our refrigerator this morning. I peruse the names and cannot imagine that any will ever drop from the list .  But, if the list I just threw away is a reliable historical reference, I know they will.

New hit game by Xbox Live: Immortal Recurring Charges

When my older son, age 16, asked for my credit card number earlier in the year to pay for a thirty-day Microsoft Xbox Live subscription, I gave it to him. He is a responsible kid who can be expected to understand the fine print.

“How much will be charged to my credit card?”

“$9.99.”

“Okay. $9.99. That’s it?”

“That’s it. I promise.”

“I had better not see add-ons. No games. No extended subscriptions!”

Charges started to show up on my credit card statement at once. There was the expected $9.99. There were also several unexpected charges of $4.99. I grilled both sons about these unexpected charges and both looked genuinely perplexed. I let it go, comfortable in the knowledge that my older son had only purchased a one-month subscription.

The next month’s credit card statement arrived with another charge of $9.99, several of the $4.99 and a brazen charge of $21.99. No longer in the mood to be a good sport, I gathered the troops and demanded to know how these charges were accruing. Again, both sons denied all knowledge.

I called my credit card company to dispute the unauthorized charges. The customer service representative at my credit card company was entirely sympathetic and expressed familiarity with the problem. She would handle my dispute, but advised me to call Microsoft Xbox Live, also, which I did.

When you call Microsoft Xbox Live, they tell you right up front you are going to wait a long, long time. The cheery automated voice advises you to take care of all service issues at the website. But, beware. If you hang up and go to the website, you will be advised there that you must place a phone call.

I spent the better part of an evening getting to a living person. I was close to furious by the time he chirped, “May I help you?”

I was told that policy at Microsoft Xbox Live prevents refunds. I advised him that my policy was to object to credit card theft, especially if the credit card is mine, but he was unmoved. He did swear, however, on all that is holy to mark the account my sons had set up as “no renewal“, thereby stopping all charges similar to those that he claimed my sons had accrued ordering services and playing games.

The chirpy customer service representative lied. Though one month’s statement showed no Microsoft Xbox Live charges, the following month the charges resumed. I put in more time on the phone insisting (with a bit more fervor) that Microsoft Xbox Live remove my credit card information from their files. This time, when I asked what it would take to promise beyond the shadow of a doubt that I would never again see charges, the representative said only deleting the account could do that, which he did.

Now I wait and watch. I also investigate Microsoft Xbox Live. Predictably, dozens of websites offer information about the problems with unauthorized credit card charges by Microsoft Xbox Live and, predictably, pending class action suits. Eventually, refunds might arrive. Meanwhile, I try to imagine how much Microsoft Xbox Live charges without authorization to parents’ credit cards on any give day, but the dollar amount surely boggles the mind.