Dear identity thief,
Yes, you. The woman who opened a Telstra mobile account and ran up a bill you intended me to pay.
You want to be me and enjoy my clear criminal history and (previously) unblemished credit rating? Well it’s a package deal.
You also get this:
- three separate creditors going under in the past twelve months owing us tens of thousands of dollars.
- the food detritus left under the girls’ table after every meal.
- a bathroom that we suspect needs majors works at a cost that makes my toes curl.
- the constant veil of sadness that comes from losing a beloved brother.
- a daughter who has developed a fear of the water following a lengthy battle with whooping cough.
- maths sessions at the eldest daughter’s class: where your inability to control the kids leaves you with a feeling of complete inadequacy. Every Wednesday afternoon.
- the prospect of having your front tooth extracted next month, wearing a denture for 6-8 months and paying $7K for the privilege.
- nightly worry sessions held sometime between the hours of 1 and 4am. Lately these sessions are longer and more frequent, partly because your already busy mind now has identity theft to worry about.
I have little hope that you’ll face any kind of punishment in this lifetime, but there’s a special place in hell for people like you. I have it on good authority that, in hell, identity thieves experience all the lousy stuff of the lives of the people they pretended to be and none of the good stuff. I hope your bathroom works are hideously expensive and your denture is ill-fitting.
Amanda - who wouldn’t trade with you for quids.