Dear Chase Bank:
I know things haven’t been right with us, especially after I wrote the blog post claiming I was being raped by credit card. Our relationship has resembled a crappy high school relationship in a lot of ways. You don’t like listening so I doubt you’ll get it. Well, after a long, more stressful than a boyfriend relationship, Chase Bank, you and I are friends again…kind of.
So here’s how I think it happened and granted this is through the eyes of a disgruntled cardholder. I knew we were done when I began rejecting your phone calls. It’s not like I enjoy hitting the “reject” button everytime one of your representatives calls me. I did it for your own safety, because I honestly felt like talking to one more person would result in a headline similar to “Girl Chokes Someone at Chase Bank”. I mean, when I was with Washington Mutual before you, I was the most loyal cardholder on earth. It seems that when everything changed to Chase Bank all hell broke loose. Why would you raise my interest rate to 28%? If you were resentful of my previous relationship with Washington Mutual you should’ve said something.
Then, to make matters worse, you canceled my card. Fine. I didn’t want to tell you, but because of my journey to becoming financially intelligent, I stopped using it and was planning on leaving you one day anyway. Everyone, and I mean everyone suggested that I call and work something out, (ie beg you to come back), and I did. After all, you’ve always been cool with Mom and Dad. So, I called to ask that you drop the interest rate. I called to see if there was anything I could do to fix what had happened.
In the meantime, you raised my monthly payments to around $170.00 which I could not pay. What kind of unfriendly crap is that? So after you kick me you want to punch me too? I don’t know if you know, but Chase Bank, I’m a girl. You’re not supposed to punch and kick girls. For years I had these cards and paid them on time. I did nothing wrong in this relationship to deserve anything you did to me.
Yet, I still hoped for the best and decided to try one…more…time.
Since I couldn’t make my payments, I continued to pay what I could every month. This was causing all kinds of additional fees which meant the total I was past due all of a sudden was around $700. After praying and rehearsing my get back together speech, I called you, dear Chase again.
“Is there any way I can get this taken care of with suitable payments?” I begged in my nicest voice. And you know me, I’m not always nice to your representatives.
“No, now you have to pay the past due amount of $700 in a month or we can’t work with you,” said the Wicked Witch of Chase Bank.
“What? I can’t pay $700. That’s insane? Are you stupid? (Okay, I didn’t ask if she was stupid. Honest, and if she said I did she’s lying.)
“Nope. As long as that past due amount is there we can’t help you,” she growled. What’s that all about?
With my heart broken in two, I told the Wicked Witch of Chase Bank “Thank you, I’ll see what I can do” and hung up the phone knowing I was lying out of my clenched teeth. I didn’t mean to lie, but geez what do you expect? To be fair, you did tell me once that I needed that wrinkle cream and I didn’t, so we’re even. Not to mention you were dishonest in multiple other ways.
I still continued to pay what I could pay. After all, you’d kicked me, punched me and spit in my face. What else could you do? Cancel my card? Hahaha…you already did, remember? And I suspect you didn’t want to turn my account over to collections because…don’t you lose money if you do that?
Anyway, fast forward two months. When I received the call from the Chase Bank representative I was a bit shocked, first of all because I thought I blocked your stinking numbers, all 4 of those strange numbers I never recognized. I must’ve been tired because my finger wasn’t so quick on the “reject” button but alas, I’m glad I took the call. Your rep asked me what the problem was. I was like “Duh, ask Mr. Big. I just called two months ago about this,” but I still repeated everything I anyway…just because you know I like hearing myself talk. Well, surprise, Chase Bank, the representative must’ve liked my new $6 haircut .
“You might qualify for an exception,” said the Good Witch of Chase Bank.
“Sure,” I replied, waiting for her to request a million bazillion dollars or something else ridiculous.
To make a long story short, I did qualify for the exception. My payments were lowered to an amount even lower than when we first began dating and my interest was lowered to 6%- a ridiculously low rate for a person in my situation and way lower than any rate I’ve had since I had the cards. Either you’re drunk or your rep doesn’t like you either.
Some will say I should’ve just let the account go to collections and let the statute of limitations run out and whatever other ways there are to not pay a bill. I’m not sneaky like you though. My intention has always been to pay the bill, I was just begging for someone to help me out with a suitable arrangement. I am nervous that this deal will somehow hurt me in the long run and I’ll regret getting so damn happy about it–and I mean practically dancing on my desk happy. Still, for now I choose to be satisfied. My bill with Chase Bank can now be paid with payments I can afford. That’s all I ever wanted. I’m still not elated about being forced into this friendship with you for as long as the cows come home (or whatever that saying is about the cows that means practically the rest of my life.) It’s nice to at least have the option now to make double payments so I can ditch your ass sooner.
My dad joked that afterwards you’ll probably offer me another card. I want to say you can kiss my you know what. I forgive but I don’t forget.
You will regret treating me badly.
You will miss me. I could’ve been the best credit cardholder you ever had. Okay, that’s probably stretching it.
Thanks for the memories and thanks for making up with me.
Sincerely (and I mean that),