Jon22: The Website of Jonathan Dobres

When I bought my fancy RAZR phone a few months ago, I did so for three major reasons. One, I hardly ever buy myself anything frivolous, let alone something so expensive. It being just past the New Year, and having endured a very difficult autumn, I felt I deserved a present. Two, my old phone was beginning to look its age, scratched and damaged from sharing a pocket with my keys for two years. Three, a fifty dollar rebate, you say? Why, I’m practically making money off the thing!

Little did I know what kind of hoops I’d have to jump through to claim that sweet fifty dollars. The rebate requires that you send the following items to the Cingular AT&T Master Monolith:

1. A copy of the rebate form with all boxes properly filled out. One particularly long string of boxes must be filled with a specific serial number which can be found, conveniently, on the underside of your phone’s internal battery, printed in a font so small that you’ll need a scanning electron microscope to read it. Since I’ve been paying my bills for years now, I can only assume that Cingular AT&T already has my account information, and that the serial number is needed for strange and mystical reasons. It probably has something to do with with the fact that I’m a Capricorn on the cusp of Sagittarius, or that it’s the Year of the Pig. Perhaps the exact length of the serial number confers unto those who process the claim a dark power. Who can be sure?
2. A copy of your freshly minted Service Contract, signed in blood. To be fair, this was helpfully provided by the man at the store, who lives a life so sad that this was probably his greatest act of kindness.
3. The proof of purchase bar code, which you must cut directly from the box that contains your new phone. That’s right, claiming your rebate just became a crafts project. I suppose this is done to guarantee that you won’t be returning the phone.

It was actually kind of fun, not unlike the sensation I used to get from successfully completing a grade school science project. Blow into this cup of mystery chemicals and it’ll change colors! Add vinegar to this baking soda and we can have a volcano! Mix this ammonia with some common household bleach and you’ll kill us all! Stop! Don’t! Good times.

I did all this immediately, because I knew that Cingular AT&T would take its sweet time getting me my money. It didn’t arrive until over two months later, but at least they kept sending me helpful text messages to let me know that one of their Howler Demons was processing my claim. I wasn’t terribly surprised by the ridiculously slow process.

No, what surprised me was that when my rebate finally arrived, it came in the form of a debit card. Not a fifty dollar bill, not a certified check, but a plastic card that I can, God bless America, expend at any organization that takes Visa. Oh, and the card expires in June. If I don’t spend it by June the money just disappears, like the world’s most illegal magic trick. Awesome.

So, people, I’ve got fifty dollars that I’ve just gotta spend, and the clock is ticking. How should I do it?