Lately, I feel like I’ve seen him more often than my family, friends or co-workers. It’s the FreeCreditReport.com guy.
He first came on the scene last year, dressed as a pirate with nothing but his boyish grin and a catchy jingle about a hacker who stole his identity. I was hooked (and had an odd craving for chowder and iced tea).
The months went by, and I felt his pain as he married his dream girl but because of HER bad credit, was forced to live in her mom & dad’s basement in a room that was so small his drummer had to use the toilet as a stool. I defended him (and his whack credit) as his posse was getting laughed at and their legs stuck to the vinyl in their used subcompact. I didn't think he looked that bad while rollin’ eco-friendly on a 2-wheel ride. And I cursed the credit gods as his identity was stolen yet again by some punk who prevented him from enjoying the champagne, caviar, and tricked-out exotic cars reserved only for rock stars.
Why such blind devotion to a man with such dubious credit? Because he was so cute!
Sure, I’ve heard that his report isn’t actually “free.” I can look past that. And I think it’s pretty clear he’s lip synching. Eh, so what? But now I hear it’s not even his voice because the actor doesn’t speak English? Well that’s just blasphemy!
Now, he’s all trying to woo me back with his fake sword fights and green wool tights at the Renaissance Faire (where he thought his credit could stink and nobody would care). I say, be gone, fake cute indie rock musician! Your bad credit is no good with me.