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Bad Credit, No Credit - It’s a Problem! Ashley Taylor

A few months ago, my new friend “the bankruptcy lawyer we don’t acknowledge in public” recommended that we contact both of our credit card companies to plead for an annual APR reduction.  It really is asinine to think that they are making BILLIONS of dollars each year from outrageous interest rates.  BILLIONS.  They have us by the balls.  It was in the fine print when we signed.  Right there.  Something like “if you are one hour late making a payment then your current 6.2% APR will go up to 28.99% and you will forever be indebted to us, unless you win the lottery – or die”.

I came home from my “walk down the plank” meeting with the lawyer, at peace with the world just knowing that I was not going to live on the street that month after all, and called my credit card company to start the pining.  A young man named Bob answered the phone.  The really funny thing is that “Bob” didn’t sound like a “Bob” – this guy sounded more like an Asheem or Randhir.  This happens every time I have (used to) have my nails done too.  I always found myself surrounded by women who did not speak a lick of English yet their names were Cindy, Brenda or Tammy.  It would be like me landing in Vietnam and introducing myself as Hong Hanh.  It is strange. 

So I was on the phone and suddenly had the feeling I wasn’t in Kansas anymore. Nope.  In fact, I am guessing that I had landed in either Bangalore or Mumbai, AGAIN.  This is always the case too when I call Delta or XM Sirius and it freakin’ drives me crazy.  I can repeat myself 45 times in the slowest, most southern drawl you can possibly squeeze out of me, sober, and they still cannot understand what I am saying.  Asking for a manager doesn’t get you anywhere either.  Once you go through your 25 minutes of harassing the person for a manager, guess what?  The manager doesn’t understand you either.  But, I obviously had not learned my lesson at this point and for some insane reason I thought that I might be able to talk “Bob Hasmukh Jawahar” into working with me.  Well, “Bob” could not wrap his head around my plight.  Plain and simple.  “Bob” just kept saying over and over “I am so sorry for your burden, we cannot help you.  Have I answered all of your questions in a satisfactory manner?”  No matter what angle I took, how I presented the problem - HE WAS A BROKEN RECORD.  So, naturally I went ape shit postal on him and started screaming into the phone “Could I please speak with someone in your department who was raised in America?  And for Pete’s sake you are not going to find that question in your cue cards, so put those down and listen to me.  I NEED SOMEONE WHO SPEAKS E-N-G-L-I-S-H.  AS A FIRST LANGUAGE.  FLUENTLY.  WHAT IN THE HELL HAS HAPPENED TO THE AMERICAN EMPLOYEES? AUUUUUGGGHHHH!!!”  

Well what do you know.  I was immediately transferred to New Jersey and am speaking with an American who can help me.  I was quickly told that I needed to put my sad tale of woe in writing and submit it to their Correspondence Department.  Ok.  I am on it.  I wrote my letter.  It was good – pitiful and, unfortunately, true. 

When I asked Matt to fax it he told me that they were going to suspend all usage of the card in order to work with us.  Screeeeeeeeeeeech.  Noooooo, they can’t do that – YET.  I still had $1500 of credit left on the card.  I couldn’t lose that money (never mind that it is at 28.99% interest); it was my emergency stash – my “fallback plan”.  I had to keep my safety blanket.  I mulled it over for a few days, wondering how I could use this money wisely; where I could put it to best use.  Botox?  Highlights?  Facial?  Seasonal handbag?  That was a bit shallow.  I needed to think about my family.  What was right around the corner that would require money we didn’t have?  Why, Christmas of course!!!  I could go out and take care of Christmas gifts.  Brilliant. So here I went, all broke and borrowed, in September, trotting off to Toys R Us.  I bought the entire damn store and hid everything in the basement.  My thinking was that we may be living in Tent City come December, but by golly Santa was going to pay us a visit this year.  

Truth be told, I only spent $300 at Toys R Us – I mean, come on.  Did you really think that I spent $1500 on Santa Claus???  Ha.  That would be a little Hollywood, wouldn’t it?  Perhaps a tad bit irresponsible? I couldn’t really tell you what the balance went towards – life, food, gas (COSTCO!) I suppose.  Doesn’t matter, it’s history now.  The credit card company and I eventually came to an agreement.  Even though I made a handful of payments 2 or 3 days late in the seven years I was a customer, they agreed to lower my interest rate back to the original 6.2% APR. Wow.  They really went above and beyond.  The card was turned off; permanently.  Matt and I have been living credit card free now since September.  I am so bitter, I don’t even care.