In which I discuss the fascinating and perplexing details of poverty.
I had had a credit card through Capital One for many years. (Yes, yes, I know that’s a bad idea because their interest rates are astronomical, but whatever.) When my household’s income dropped drastically for over a year, I was forced to make executive decisions about bill paying. I basically quit paying the bill for this card.
The account went into in-house collections. I make token payments of $5 or $25 at random intervals, to show willingness to pay. Eventually the account went to an outside agency which was aggressive as hell and harassed me constantly. I had to tell the chick handling my account never to call me again because she was such a horrifyingly stone-cold cunt.
Via fax (because the agency wouldn’t use email and I couldn’t speak to my agent over the phone without wanting to kill myself), I made payment arrangements. I didn’t keep to them — because of the whole let’s-go-to-Indy-and-make-money fiasco — so the collections firm levied my checking account to the tune of almost three thousand dollars.
Today I logged into my online banking portal for the first time in months. Mysteriously, my account balance is -485.69.
*blink*
Now, WTF? Where did the garnishment go? I looked through all my statements since last July: no levy. It’s gone, like it never happened… except all of my NSF fees due to the garnishment are still there.
Oh, but wait. On January 3rd of this year, there are two transactions: a $50 “GARNISHMENT FEE” and then another charge, “PAYMENT OF GARNISHMENT SCSC016413,” for $238.47. How did the garnishment amount drop from three grand to $238.47? Why is there no record of the account-killing garnishment in the first place? I mean, I owe my bank hundreds and hundreds of dollars in NSFs because of the fucker, and now it’s gone? And what the fuck is this $238.47 number?
They garnished me, fucked up my account, then ungarnished me. And now they’re garnishing me again. People, if you haven’t lived without a checking account since you were fifteen, let me tell you: it’s nearly impossible to live without one. You can’t cash checks. You can’t use a debit card. You can’t do shit. Garnishing someone’s checking account is the very best way to marginalize them entirely. Without a checking account, one can barely function in the world at all.
$238.47 and a $50 fee?!?!! Clearly I need to send some faxes.
Update: My friend informs me a garnishment without authorization is illegal. I’m gonna send a bitchy fax, demanding the garnishment be removed and all my fees paid. Oh yeah.
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OK, this is an idea about where all those numbers are coming from: maybe, with the “agreement to pay” thing, there was something about a garnishment agreement in the small print. When you didn’t make regular payments on that, they probably tapped into your checking acct for all the payments you’d missed (which they may have realized later wasn’t the cool thing to do) – and then, just to keep things fun, they started garnishing your acct for just the payments you were supposed to make. Maybe.
But yeah, I second your idea to communicate somehow with your bank and the collectors and all them folks. They can’t screw you and expect you to be all happy about it and still continue to play fair. That’s just not right.
There was no agreement to pay, there was no small print. I made a verbal agreement over the phone to make certain payments, that’s it. They got my account information off of a check I’d sent as one of my payments. -m
As long as you didn’t sign anything, and only made a verbal agreement to send checks, to my knowledge they can’t use your check routing and account numbers to withdraw money from your banking account.
The credit card company would have to have a judgment in hand.
I didn’t sign anything! -m
Unless the laws have changed with the George W. Bush “screw the consumer” laws, I don’t believe they can withdraw money from your checking account without your permission. I would check with your state attorney general’s office to see if they committed a crime.
I’m just gonna assume they did (commit a crime) and see what happens. -m
I have so been there. Last year this happened to me and my best friend like all in a matter of a month. I think we were both shocked that this was allowed to happen. It amazes me just how little control I have of my own account when it really comes down to it–and how much access horrifyingly stone-cold cuntly strangers do have to it. Seems backward, particularly when you were paying “good-faith” payments here and there. I hope you get to the bottom of all of this and then come out on top–I feel for you!
How did you get the issue resolved? Did it turn out to be legal in NY to levy an account?! -m
Remember, it’s always darkest just right there in the middle of the night, when all the lights are out and the moon has set and stuff. And you haven’t paid the electric bill.
Feel better, sweetie? Or should I tell you some other crap?
(Snicker)
Thanks, dad, I feel so much better. *scowl* -m
Ha, your dad cracks me up. Yeah poverty sucks, no doubt. I am standing right next to you wondering how much I need to pay who to keep services running. Not paid up to date or nothing, just nothing shut off.
You know, I’m not sure they can do that. I’d suggest you just sue their asses off. Again, if you’d like me to look over any fine print to see if they snuck a clause or ten in there, send it over. In the meanwhile, I’m trying to figure out how to upload files to my server for you to download and read.