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The Pushback

I call myself an author because I have published things and have had things published (subtle difference. Thanks to desktop publishing technology, anyone can publish. I take advantage of it). Many of my author friends are experts in things like Scotland, werewolves, time travel, shape shifting, editing, werewolves in kilts

 Introducing: Grant Davis (Art by Alexwolf)

(they do exist)

motorcycle clubs, editors by day, vampire motorcycle outlaws by night, and sarcasm. Sarcasm is an art form. I have somewhat different areas of expertise (not in sarcasm. I excel at that).

I earned my expertise in dealing with debt collection the hard way. I am a battle-scarred warrior.

Not that pretty, but the other images were pretty gnarly. Including a one-eyed lion.

I know what is legal, what it isn’t, when to hold ’em and when to fold ’em.

So, I’ve been getting calls from a Nebraska (402 area code) phone number. I’ve ignored them, let them go to voice mail. Today was a day of confronting the results of bad decisions I’ve made (which I call “shoveling shit”. Here’s the thing, it’s like laundry. If you take care of it, you may spend maybe one or two hours doing loads. If you ignore it, you’ll spend at least a day and have to wear a paint-stained hoodie and too-tight yoga pants because you’re out of clean clothes). They called again and I took the call.

It was a recording. Clue Number 1 that this may not be legit.

It was a recording threatening legal action. I had received nothing in writing regarding a pending lawsuit or any collection action from this outfit, which had my name, a case number (which is not a legitimate legal case number. There is a certain “style” to legal case numbers, regardless of jurisdiction. This one had none of it. Now, it could have been an internal case number, but since they were threatening impending legal action, I think it was a random collection of letters and numbers pulled from someone’s ass), but did not identify the name of the company. Clue Number 2.

Being in a mood to do so, I called them back. My thought was “So, you wanna play?”

This is the part where I teach you guys something. The 6 or 7 of you who read this. Unless you’re a trust fund baby, chances are you’ve had credit cards, medical bills, gym memberships, past due car insurance payments, some kind of something that’s ended up with a collector. Hey, I’ve seen credit reports that had unpaid parking tickets, library fines, and even bounced checks to Chinese restaurants. I am not making this up. If it can be sent to a collector, it will be. And they will put it on your credit report. Check your credit reports. That’s another lesson.

I called the number, 402-382-7932 (if they end up getting flooded with calls, I don’t care). Some of you may recognize it because one of the tags led you here.  The phone was answered with the standard language of “attempting to collect a debt” but not all of it (Clue 3) and “In House Processing.” Once I provided my confirmed my identity, I was told that a credit card company was proceeding against me and this was my last chance to settle before going to court.”

Legitimate debt collectors clearly identify themselves, the company making the attempt, the creditor, and the amount right off the bat (that’s the shit I shoveled this morning, talking to a collection company under contract as opposed to a debt buyer who may have bought a spreadsheet of accounts or just made up shit). I got the name of the company, nothing else. Clue 4.

My response was “No.”

She said, “What?” I replied, “I’m in contact with my creditors. I don’t have a pending collection. So no.”

She then said, “Fine, we’ll go to court” and hung up. I tried to call back and found I was blocked. Clue 5. Game, set, match. Not legit.

Okay, so here’s the lesson: debt collection is chiefly governed by the Fair Debt Collection Practices Act (Federal law), state consumer protection laws (and their “teeth” will vary from state to state depending on how much money the AG and legislators have taken from the debt collection industry), The Consumer Finance Protection Bureau (CFPB) which is now under the “acting” control of Mick Mulvaney, so its effectiveness is questionable, the Federal Trade Commission (FTC) under the control of Wilbur Ross (also questionable effectiveness), state consumer finance protection agencies under the auspices of the Attorney General’s office (and again, that will vary from state to state).

Knowledge is power. Hard-won knowledge even more powerful.

You are allowed one free credit report per year from Equifax, Transunion, and Experian from https://www.annualcreditreport.com/index.action. Pull them. I suggest staggering them, one every four months, so that you are continually up to date on your info. You can also check in with Credit Karma for Transunion and Equifax on a daily basis, but that site’s purpose has morphed from credit monitoring to selling credit products (Capital One now owns it). However, it is accurate as to what’s on those reports and updated at least weekly. Use it as a backup to pulling the full report. NB: Unless you are on the brink of applying for some serious credit (like a mortgage or installment loan for a car), don’t bother with getting the score unless it’s offered for free (and even then, take it with a grain of salt).

If you get a call from someone attempting to collect a debt, check your credit report first. If you’ve been given the name of the debt collection agency, see if it’s on your credit report (CBR), especially if they’re threatening legal action. If not, the call is suspect.

Get the name of the person calling you, the company, the phone number they’re calling from, company address, who they say they’re collecting for, and how much they’re demanding. You will want this information to file a report. I was calling back to obtain this information when I found that I’d been blocked. Legit collectors are not afraid of giving you this information.

You have the right to receive written notice of the debt with all of the above information included (except name of caller). And, in fact, you should have received written notification. I hadn’t.

The Dodd-Frank Act that created the CFPB imposed regulations on the collection of financial instruments, which includes credit cards. Now, this woman said  that a credit card had filed suit. Had I gotten the information I wanted, I would have filed a complaint with the CFPB because this is specifically their domain, consumer finance. Also the state consumer protection bureau. I tried reporting another one of these scam artists recently and didn’t have enough information for them to proceed.

Seriously, I plan to teach the ins and outs here. You’re getting a free lesson.

So, in a nutshell, when you get one of these calls:

  1. Know what’s on your credit report. Check it before calling back.
  2. GET THEIR INFORMATION; Who is calling, Where are they (mailing address), How much do they want, When was the debt incurred (Why is always – because they think they can get money out of you)
  3. Tell them you want everything in writing. It’s your right.
  4. If they threaten (arrest is a favorite, legal action, sometimes bodily harm), report that as well. It’s a violation of the FDCPA.
  5. Don’t be afraid to push back. The “bad actors” will fold their tents at the first sign of resistance. They know they’re operating outside of the law and have no legal recourse if you fail to comply with their wishes and can face a ton of legal hassles, like heavy fines and criminal prosecution for fraud, if they persist.

Here endeth the lesson.

I’m Still Here

How many times have I said that? (I know, I know)

I’m not a Stephen  Sondheim fan (I recognize his genius, but his music doesn’t resonate with me).

It’s been 364 days since my last blog post. That was about how I felt since the death of my friend 15 years ago. I have sisters (more on them in a bit) but that was the loss of a soul sister. Given the number of blunders I’ve made in that time, I think I relied too heavily on her superior common sense and smarts for guidance and didn’t really work to develop my own.

2003 was a suck-ass year.

Followed by 2005.

So was 2008.

And 2015.

2018, too.

I self-diagnose as having situation depression. It manifests as a form of emotional paralysis: I don’t want to do anything. Everything is overwhelming. I just want to hibernate until things are better. I don’t want to be medicated because that won’t resolve the issues (and that goes for drugs and alcohol. They don’t solve the problem, so why bother?).  I can’t afford to go to a psychiatric hospital because I don’t have insurance or the means to pay for it (or a regular prescription. That shit’s expensive). And I don’t want to be on meds anyway. (Sort of a middle finger to Big Pharma)

I looked for an image for this post of a woman wrapped in chains to illustrate the point. However, the ones I found (including strait-jacket photos) were all a bit too BDSM to use. Yeah, no.

Lost a good-paying job in March. Managed to scramble, financially through most of the year, but found another job in September that pays 63% less. No, that was not a typo. Call center. White collar work, but not a living wage. I have never been so over-managed in the 34 years I’ve been a working adult. At any given time, at least 4 people can be monitoring a phone call located in Florida, New York, or Mumbai. The task does not play to my strengths: problem-solving. And my co-workers tell me it’s obvious to them that the manager does not like me. At all. However, I did win a 43″ Sharp smart TV at the Christmas party, so there’s that.

The way out…

In the time in between jobs, I SUCCESSFULLY COMPLETED a course in Web Design and Program Development. Me. I learned HTML, CSS, Bootstrap, JavaScript, JQuery, some graphics work, PHP, and MySQL. The JavaScript and the PHP  haven’t stuck too well, but the coding community is extremely supportive, in terms of fora (plural of forum), chat rooms, and websites to learn/practice coding.  I made what I think is a kick-ass website for my final project (no, I’m not providing the link right now. It’s supposed to be uploaded to here somewhere, but we’ll see if I was successful). Starting wages for web development are still about half of what I was making in mortgage due diligence, but more than what I’m making now.  And I can create tools for folks to complete better, more accurate mortgage reviews.

I am standing in my own way in terms of lacking self-confidence. Potential employers will give you puzzles to code and I am too chickenshit to complete them. Practicing code on a website in order to refresh memory and boost confidence.

And, once again, I need to find a home. (And save my stuff in storage. Seriously. If anyone reading this has a spare $150,000, that’ll pay off all my debts and purchase a nice little condo for me with enough to move CA storage stuff to FL, furnish home, acquire two kitties).

I’ve been ready to throw in the towel for eternity for months. I’m serious.

This week, an old wound that I’ve been trying to heal by ignoring it has reopened. This is where my sisters come in. One of them posted an old photo of the two of them wearing hats from my grandmother. I remember when the picture was taken. In the posted photo, I was cropped out. I’m being erased from my family. And that broke my heart.

I imagine they would say this is all my fault due to issues I had with my mother, but 20 some years ago, I could see that the unity and bonding that my dad wanted so much for us wasn’t going to outlast him. I thought I had worked towards healing old wounds and rebuilding relationships, but I was wrong. Back in 2000, at my sister’s wedding, her co-workers challenged me when I said I was her sister. They pointed at my other sister and said, “No, that’s her sister over there!”

How nice. Of course, she has family pictures all over her houses, but I never saw myself in any of them. Granted, we had a bad relationship as kids. After I moved out, I discovered that she had broken some of my collection of horse statues (including Breyer collectibles which appreciate in value. Dumb fucking move). I don’t think it was accidental. Nor was cutting up my prom dress to make an 8th grade graduation dress without asking me (Thanks, Mom. You knew better). Her boyfriend/husband was not very friendly and the first time I saw her kids beyond being little babies, they thought it was great fun to hit me with duck decoys while their parents stood by and laughed. I should have known.

Of course, the usual comment that follows is “Well, you hold a grudge.” Actions speak louder than words. My words, your actions.

The cropped picture brought it all home. If you bitches wanted to hurt me, you fucking did it. Congratulations. I hope you’re happy with yourselves. You tried to trap me into moving home and being a caretaker for someone who disliked me only slightly less than you did.

Why was it decided that my life and happiness mattered less than yours?

Whatever. You can block me on Facebook, refuse to acknowledge my existence, not communicate with me unless you want something (which has been the case since we were teens. I only exist if I’m useful to you. The sad smile and tears with “We really should be closer” only comes out when the wine flows. I’m willing to be closer, just not on your terms). However, like science, whether you like it or not, I’m still your sister. Those were my parents. I don’t even know what you did with the bodies. NONE of you had the maturity, courage, or grace to reach to tell me my mother was dying, was dead, the date/time of the memorial, or even offer me the pictures of myself from the hall. I didn’t want money (this was a discussion I’d had with Mom several times. And Dad. Because he and I were both ATTORNEYS who had studied wealth transmission, we knew the best estate planning was to spend it all (including transfers) during your lifetime). All I wanted were the cross-stitch pictures I’d made for them, the photos of me as a baby and little girl, me with Ralph, my graduation pictures, the Fidelity publicity photo of me wearing a headset. That’s it. My stuff. Given the treatment years prior of my collectibles, I wouldn’t be surprised if they were tossed the first day of cleaning out the Rutland house. And I’m pretty sure I was lied to about them.

Anger is like  drinking poison and hoping it kills the other person. I have to forgive you for myself. I can also forgive you because you have to live with yourselves. I don’t.

I have been working on some short stories. I will finish those sumbitches if it kills me. Which is ironic because they’re supposed to be funny erotica, not Swedish death metal (shout-out to a friend). And not under my name. Someone I respect told me I need to focus and commit to something, then success will follow. Also commented that the comerotica (comedy + erotica. Portmanteau word. May catch on. May not) would be successful. I can do that.

And that’s the state of me right now.

Still here. The Iron Rose will bloom again.