Today, I talked to a collector who called to collect on a school loan from Colorado State University in the amount of $34,750 and some pennies. It’s funny that I never remember attending CSU or racking up thousands on campus. I don’t have a CSU sweatshirt that says I was even there.
“Impossible,” I said.
I told the collector, who pressed me hard for the funds, that she must have the wrong person. The only school I attended in Colorado was Air Academy Junior High School in the 1980s, and as I remember it was a publicly funded institution.
“What year were you born?” she asked accusingly.
The pre-disco era number rolled off my tongue smoothly in adamant reply. “But wait, you mean to tell me there’s another Kat Groshong and she lived in Colorado, too?”
Apparently yes. And she still thought that she is me. The collector pressed me even more for information. And I, no longer amused, explained to her that I attended college in California, unfettered from student loans. I remember those years, mostly, and I have a faded sweatshirt and alumni association membership card to prove that I was there. I offered to send her a picture of me in the sweatshirt, but she said no. I also offered to send her a junior high yearbook picture. Again, no.
The only way to removed all doubt was to divulge something so personal that I shuddered at its very thought. I spat the first three digits of my social security number at her. And that was all it took. As of today, all my personal information has been removed from the file – including B’s work number where they originally tried to call me.
This got me thinking. I know of another Kat Groshong, I met on Facebook. Different first name spelling. And apparently there are two others that I know of, who date me by a few years. One is a gallery artist in Canada and the other lives some place in the South. And yet, there is one more who, according to what is being said, got a high-priced education in the Rocky Mountain State. I don’t think her degree was in finance. But, if you are Kat Groshong from CSU, they’re looking for you.
“Impossible,” I said.
I told the collector, who pressed me hard for the funds, that she must have the wrong person. The only school I attended in Colorado was Air Academy Junior High School in the 1980s, and as I remember it was a publicly funded institution.
“What year were you born?” she asked accusingly.
The pre-disco era number rolled off my tongue smoothly in adamant reply. “But wait, you mean to tell me there’s another Kat Groshong and she lived in Colorado, too?”
Apparently yes. And she still thought that she is me. The collector pressed me even more for information. And I, no longer amused, explained to her that I attended college in California, unfettered from student loans. I remember those years, mostly, and I have a faded sweatshirt and alumni association membership card to prove that I was there. I offered to send her a picture of me in the sweatshirt, but she said no. I also offered to send her a junior high yearbook picture. Again, no.
The only way to removed all doubt was to divulge something so personal that I shuddered at its very thought. I spat the first three digits of my social security number at her. And that was all it took. As of today, all my personal information has been removed from the file – including B’s work number where they originally tried to call me.
This got me thinking. I know of another Kat Groshong, I met on Facebook. Different first name spelling. And apparently there are two others that I know of, who date me by a few years. One is a gallery artist in Canada and the other lives some place in the South. And yet, there is one more who, according to what is being said, got a high-priced education in the Rocky Mountain State. I don’t think her degree was in finance. But, if you are Kat Groshong from CSU, they’re looking for you.
No comments:
Post a Comment