For a while, I thought we HAD come a long way. Women have made substantial inroads in business, the professions, and job equality. We may eventually catch up salary-wise, but honestly, I don’t expect to live that long. However, following a few recent experiences, my response is a loud, annoyed “Fuggedaboudit.” America’s default setting is male.

In the world of finance, credit, and ownership, it is men who business wants to talk with. I’ve found that yes, it’s OK for me to buy a Geek Squad membership, even a car, but the powers-that-be only want to deal with the guy.

A few examples spanning my adult life:

My freshman year in college, I opened my first charge account. It was at a classic women’s store – way out of my price range. I felt like an adult, surprised that they granted me charge privileges. But I loved their clothes, and quickly learned when the big sales were held. Fast forward a few years into real adulthood, with an occasional need for something special. Talbot’s was my go-to emporium, even if it took five months to pay for the dress.

After I married, I did what most women did in those days. When I changed my last name on any accounts, I listed myself as Mrs. Thomas O’Brien. Remember when we did that? We were socially correct, but it did feel a bit like I was his possession. My Talbot’s invoices arrived addressed that way for years.

Then suddenly, in the ’80s, there was a push for women to create their own independent credit. Maybe it coincided with the increase in the divorce rate. Or, was it possible there was a financial awakening that women were also people who both bought and owned things?

I entered a Talbot’s store in Boston with my teenage daughter, and we made a purchase. When I gave the clerk my charge card, I told her I also needed to change the account name to be just in my first name. No more Mrs. Thomas. “Oh, you’re no longer married?” Stunned, I explained that wasn’t the problem. I just wanted the card in my own name, the way the account had originally been opened. I wanted my own credit.

“Well that’s only possible if Mr. O’Brien would sign off on this change. He has to approve it.”

“What? He doesn’t even know that his name is on this account. And he could care less.” By then, I’d had the account for 28 years. Eventually, the store manager grudgingly completed the paperwork for the change.Very grudgingly.

Fast forward another 30-plus years. Talbot’s updated their charge cards this year to a snazzy rose-gold color. I received an email to watch for my new card in the mail. When I opened the envelope, it contained two charge cards! One was labeled Marcy O’Brien. And the other? Are you ready? It read Mrs. Thomas O’Brien. Tom died 16 years ago.

After Tom passed, the 10-year-old, beat-up sedan he left was beginning to cost me real money. The following year, my son surprised me with a new Toyota RAV-4. It was the Christmas present to end all presents. I was overwhelmed and very grateful. It was registered and insured in my name. That didn’t matter. All the correspondence came to my son’s name at this address. He has never lived here. All warranty notices were addressed to him. I explained this to the dealer on two separate visits. No luck. I never went back. My son still gets Toyota mail and phone calls here, 15 years later. .

And then the opposite situation happened: That RAV-4 passed its 10th birthday and began to misbehave expensively. I bit the bullet, traded it in, and bought a Honda, my last car. I chose the coIor. I wrote the check. From MY account. And then – knowing how much easier it would be if anything happened to either of us, I added Dear Richard’s name to the title. My name is first on the title. Not surprisingly, all the warranty notices and sales events are addressed to him.

My computer went into a deep coma this week. I was finally able to resurrect it with the assistance of a Geek Squad guru in India. He really didn’t want to talk to me at first, because my computer was listed as belonging to Dear Richard. Seriously. I paid for it, and I bought the Geek Squad membership insurance. After we sorted through all of that, and he reassured me, he scheduled me for a repair in Erie.

When I arrived at the Geek Squad Emergency Room this morning, I couldn’t find my name on their display screen schedule. Aha! There it is! Plain as day, in my assigned time slot: Richard’s name. Again.

I had to renew my expensive Geek Squad membership. I did so in MY name, again, with my MasterCard. We’ll see how long that lasts. Don’t hold your breath Mrs. O’Brien.

Marcy O’Brien can be reached at Moby.32@hotmail.com.