My knight­hood cost less than $100

The Guardian (Charlottetown) - - OPINION -

man­aged to buy be­fore they were cut off.)

“It’s a charge from Ama­zon,” she said bluntly. “You’ll have to call them.”

I did. Ama­zon as­sured me I was im­por­tant to them and…

“Hello, how my I help you,” said the voice on the other side of the line, clearly some­one at a call cen­tre prob­a­bly in In­dia. It must be nearly mid­night there.

I ex­plained my prob­lem. Just a few se­cu­rity ques­tions first, he said apolo­get­i­cally. My ad­dress. I got it right. My postal code. I re­mem­ber the first half, then noth­ing. BW filled in the rest.

“Thank you very much,” the man with the de­light­fully singsong ac­cent said. “And your name, sir.”

“Rick Ma­cLean.”

“Very good. May I call you by your first name, sir.” “Sure.”

“Thank you, Sir Rick.”

It’s hard to even pre­tend you’re an­noyed when you’re be­ing called Sir Rick.

Five min­utes and be­ing put on hold twice failed to solve the prob­lem.

“But if you don’t mind Sir Rick, I’ll trans­fer you to our ac­counts sec­tion.” Knights can af­ford to be gen­er­ous, so I thanked him and moved on.

“Yes dear,” said the woman from some­where in the south­ern U.S. “It ap­pears some­one or­dered two-day de­liv­ery on three pairs of socks and you were au­to­mat­i­cally given a free month of our prime ser­vice.”

I looked at BW. Silence. “But if you’d like us to can­cel that ser­vice, dear, we’ll cer­tainly re­fund your money.”

Yes and done. I was about to hang up when BW chimed in to Ms. South­ern Ac­cent.

“I was try­ing to buy him the spe­cial run­ning socks for HIS birthday and was in a rush to make sure they ar­rived. So that makes it his fault, doesn’t it?” A laugh from the south­ern U.S. “It sure does, dear. We girls have to stick to­gether.”

I said noth­ing. Newly minted knights know when to sur­ren­der the field.

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