Tuesday, October 13, 2009

Where did that come from? Redux

In the last post to this blog (a long time ago), I told the story about how a 10-digit number popped into my head while filling out a deposit slip at the bank. It was my oft-used, long-time frequent flier number.

Last week, I received a note from my airline explaining that, since they had merged with another operation, I now have a new frequent flier number. Really. After 23 years, I now have a new number.

I thought it was a loyalty program! How loyal can it be if it can be -gasp - changed without my knowledge or consent. It's my number! I want it back! Even if it is for my own good. Yeah, right.

Laughable isn't it. I found myself caught up in the "how dare they change anything without my consent."

Change. No one likes it. But it is necessary. That's been my mantra. I've used that line all too often. And, you know? Now that the shoe is on my foot, it fits. I embrace change.

And, in 23 years, maybe I'll have it memorized, too. Like the combination to the lock I used in high school and lost years ago.

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