Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Though some slinky gowns grace my closet, I haven’t been invited to anything really spiffy for awhile. So imagine my flush of pleasure when IT arrived: The invitation to join Visa’s elite, the Black Card Club.
Never heard of IT? I’m not surprised. As Ashlee said (she’s the director of Customer Experience, by the way, and her name is just super cool), Visa extends this invitation to only 1 percent of all United States residents; that means only 4 million of us will squeeze into this Polo Lounge. So if you haven’t received your invitation yet, quit thinking it might be lost in the mail. Get real. You’re mastercard material.
Anything that’s worth anything costs something. And the black card, I mean Black Card, has an annual fee of $495. But before I hyperventilated on that, I read what Ashlee had to say, and of course she’s right. The Black Card is not another piece of plastic, because – it’s not plastic at all! No way, it’s carbon – a patent pending carbon card. And wait, it’s not a credit card; it’s a buying tool, guaranteed “to get you noticed.” It’s a buying tool, guaranteed to get you noticed, designed for those “who demand the best life has to offer.”
How did she know? How did she know, that even while I cut into a brick of Trader Joe cheese and slice a hunk of Ralph’s French bread, in my heart and in my head, I still DEMAND THE BEST LIFE HAS TO OFFER. Your net worth isn’t counted in dollars, it’s counted in tantrums.
So I wonder, what’s the first thing my buying tool can buy me? A membership to my buying tool? Then I can start to enjoy my 24-hour concierge service and exclusive rewards program promising luxurious perks. The letter is kind of hazy on the kind of service and perks coming my way, but I guess I’ll know who to call if my ceiling leaks again this winter.
There’s one thing of which we have no doubt, and that is the elemental composition of this card. Ashlee mentioned it at least three times (apparently some in the polo lounge are a bit thick-headed). But I get it. We’ll be an item, my Black Card and me. We’ll enter a fine restaurant or Ross Dress for Less and the cashier’s face will be bathed in awe when I say, “I assume you take carbon?”