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A Song of Pricks and Hassles

Summary:

Game of Thrones/ASOIAF characters enduring mundane modern bullshit.

Chapter 1: Stannis Disputes a Credit Card Charge

Summary:

Stannis is bitter, but revenge is sweet.

Chapter Text

“I want to speak to a supervisor!” Stannis Baratheon bellowed from the kitchen.

He did not, in fact, need to speak to a supervisor, but was told once that he would get better service if he demanded one immediately. “I don't know my reference number...I have one, but I don't remember it, it was too many digits...”

That was an objective fact, but Davos was enjoying his reclining sectional couch and his Landshark and his rerun of The World Series of Poker, and he wished his liege had chosen to do this on the patio instead.

“Anyone who says they write those down is a liar, myself included….Fine. S-T-A-N-N-I-S. Last name is Baratheon. B-A-R-A-T-H-E-O-N. ...No, no, B--No. B-A-R...Yes, B like boy. B-A-R, A-T-H, E-O-N.” He put his phone on speaker and set it down on the kitchen counter.

“And how can I provide you with excellent customer service today, Mr. Parthenon?” Asked a man who seemed rather indifferent on the matter.

Stannis sighed. “I'm disputing a charge from two statements ago. $3.27 at Caribou Coffee in the Paradise Valley Mall in Phoenix. They were out of hazelnut syrup and wouldn't give me a refund.”

“I see, I'm sorry to hear about that, Mr. Parthenon. How can I help you resolve this issue today?”

“I got a message that you need documentation. I finally found the receipt in my cupholder. What’s your fax number?” It was well known that Stannis preferred faxing to all other methods of communication.

“Okay, for that, I’m going to have to transfer you to the fraud department.”

He put his hands on his forehead and rested his elbows on the counter. “But it’s not fraud, I just--”

“One moment, sir.”  Stannis groaned and moved next to Davos on the couch, playing with a miniature cactus on the Westeros-shaped coffee table while he waited. Does he have to sit right there?

DID YOU KNOW THAT WITH A BANK OF AMERICA PLATINUM REWARDS VISA CARD,” an excited woman enquired, as Davos rolled his eyes and muted the TV in resignation, “YOU CAN GET THREE PERCENT CASH BACK ON--”

“Hello, sir, this is Guillermo with the fraud department, and who do I have the pleasure of speaking with today?” That was the wrong way to start a conversation with Stannis Baratheon.

“With whom.”

Guillermo was no better at spelling names than he was at grammar. “And for security purposes, Mr. Bear Marathon, can you please give me the six-digit PIN code you set up when you opened this account?”

“Can I give you the last four of my Social?”

“I’m afraid not, sir, I’ll need the PIN code.”

“I don’t remember the damn PIN code.”

“Understood, sir, please stay calm while I help you. As an alternative, can you provide your mother’s maiden name?” 

“Estermont. E-S-T…”

Mercifully, he didn’t have to spell the whole thing.

After recounting his story again, Stannis was informed that because he failed to provide the relevant documentation within thirty days of their request, his dispute was closed. Guillermo received not so much as a goodbye.

Furious, Stannis fished around in his cargo pocket. “Smuggler! Go to the mall!” Damnit, I’m halfway through my second beer. He flung the keys to his 2005 Ford Escape right into the Onion Lord’s balls. “Get all their Splenda.”