Back in 2002, when my nephew was a toddler and my niece was in grammar school, my sister called and asked me to open a Upromise Account. She sent me the link via email that enabled me to earn money for her kids' college by using my Citibank credit card at Bed, Bath and Beyond and grocery shopping at Jewel.
I hadn't thought about the account in years, but with my nephew visiting colleges, I called the tollfree number and regained access. Turns out I'd raised a little more than $220 since last I checked, and in 2016 it had been transferred to an account for my nephew, in my sister's name.
I shot her an IM, asking her about it. She replied, "I did not know or maybe remember you had a Upromise account." I explained that I opened it when she asked me to. I gave her the phone number -- 800-UPROMISE, not exactly hard to remember -- and added there might be money in my niece's account, too. (She's still paying on her college loans, and if the money could be transferred, I'm sure she'd appreciate it.) Her response, "Will respond later."
She never got back to me. I assume that she's been too busy to make the phone call.
She never said "thank you." I assume that I don't give enough money to her children to have it acknowledged.
Ladies and gentlemen, I give you my kid sister! Over 50, and yet forever the entitled baby of the family.
These are the thoughts and observations of me — a woman of a certain age. (Oh, my, God, I'm 65!) I'm single. I'm successful enough (independent, self supporting). I live just outside Chicago, the best city in the world. I'm an aunt and a friend. I feel that voices like mine are rather underrepresented online or in print. So here I am. If my musings resonate with you, please visit my blog again sometime.
Ouch!
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