DAHLINGS –
My deepest apologies, once again, for letting life get in the way of this blog-thing. As you know, in my last entry, I was reflecting upon Karma after my (
ugh)
Ebay account was hacked. And then I received the invitation to
Ebay In Person. It was in the last week of September.
It was at a
tres’ luxurious hotel on the East Side in midtown Manhattan. As we walked in we were handed little notebooks with
Ebay on the front and pens that said
Ebay. Inside the large conference room was a large buffet, set with food and drink that my seller’s fees were paying for. Of course I wore a stunning 50s blue and black brocade dress and carried
Bucky with me. The various
Ebay personnel wore name badges and fixed smiles as they greeted us. I nodded politely, ate some expensive
hors-deouvres, and mingled as best I could. It seemed that most of the attendees were buyers, and a few part-time sellers. Waiters bearing more expensive nibbles circulated among the crowd. I speared some sweet and sour chicken for
Bucky, and a small beef burrito for myself.
An avuncular bearded type who called himself
Griff was the subject of much adulation—apparently he has a radio show on
Ebay. He bore a remarkable resemblance to that fellow who used to do the oatmeal commercials, what was his name—
Wilfred something-or-other. Apparently he wanted us to call him
“Uncle Griff.” I suppressed a sneer. I’ve never understood the
need that some people have to be thought of as Uncle This or Grandma That…don’t they have their
own relatives to annoy?
After what seemed an
endless cocktail party
without cocktails, we were all seated at round tables for the
Question and Answer session with the various Ebay staff members. Their clothes—black shirts with “
Ebay” on them and pants—made both the men and women look oddly like male Mormons.
“Uncle Griff” was in charge of the Q&A, running through the crowd to hand off the microphone to various audience members. “Spotters” around the room selected who would ask a question. I managed to give the spotter near me a seductive look and indicated that
I wanted to ask a question. When other audience members posed their questions, the only description that applies is that they were given word for word the
same canned answers that we received in emails, but now earnestly delivered in person.
(It crossed my mind that Ebay might actually be a cult..)When it was my turn, I stood up holding
Bucky, which really got the cameras going. I smiled as if unsalted butter wouldn’t melt in my mouth, praised Paypal’s Resolution Center, thanked them for moving Reproductions in Vintage, and then asked:
“Earlier this week hundreds of
Ebay accounts were
hacked. Their names, IDs, and credit card info were on the Trust and Safety Board. When I went to look, the board had been
taken down. My ID, which I
treasure, which is
integral to my good name, had been
hacked. When I called the credit card company, they said the initial charges were coming through
Ebay.
What do you intend to do about this, may one ask?"
The
gentleman in charge of Trust and Safety looked gravely at me. He replied that most of their action was being taken on the security side on prevention, that it was hard to keep ahead of the scammers. However, “we’re leading the industry in that area.” Oh? As far as one could discern, the only institution that had fewer leaks than
Ebay was the government.
The endless Q&A went on. Some of the answers seemed to be outright lies, if only from anecdotal experience, and the rest was personably impersonal. I lost interest, and took
Bucky and self for a short stroll. When I returned, it was almost over.
I sat back down in my chair, we applauded dutifully, and the
Ebay employees stepped off the podium. The
gentleman in charge of Trust And Safety pulled up a chair next to me.
In a voice that suggested that he was speaking to a small, idiotic child, he asked me to describe the whole experience in great detail. So I did. The
gentleman took notes.
He gave me an enormous smile and said, “Elisa, there are people out there who want to make
Ebay look
bad. This didn’t come from
Ebay.”
I did
not correct his familiarity in using my first name, but retorted: “The charges came from
Ebay. That’s what the credit card company told me.”
“No, they
didn’t. They came from somewhere else.”
“That’s
not what the credit card company said. The charges were from
Ebay.”
“
No, Elisa, they did
not. You did everything right, changing your passwords and canceling your card. That was good thinking on
your part, Elisa! We’re going to be issuing a press release about it in a few days.”
To be honest, I was afraid he was going to pat my knee, and then I was going to have to tell
Bucky to attack him. However, with a reassuring nod, he closed his notepad and moved on to another poor soul.
The audience was filing out into the unseasonably hot September night, and that's when I saw her. If only because she was wearing a garment completely unsuited to the weather.
A vintage cheetah coat with otter collar and CUFFS!"
Stop that woman!" I cried, but it was too late. She had slipped out of the double doors and into the night.
A few days later, I received a follow-up email, informing me that Ebay is one of the safest sites on the Internet. Hmmmmph.
Ciao,
Elisa & Bucky the Wonderdog
