I have occasional mental lapses that cause me to mis-remember dates of relative insignificance. It is because of two of these lapses that I made a late payment on my two primary credit cards this month – within one week of each other.
The similarities were staggering: I had an “Ahh, shit!” moment in each instance whereby I forgot to make the payment until the morning after the due date. Both payments were made roughly 12 hours late. Both companies listed an automatic late fee for said transactions of $39.00. And both received “Gee, shucks,” calls from me this evening in an attempt to get the respective late fees refunded.
- Call #1
The first call was to “Big Ass Bank”, with whom I’ve only recently had an account – it was opened in February. I got this card because it has a points program, and I figured if I’m going to use credit cards anyway, why not get a microscopic bit back? Representative gets on the phone. American man. I explain the situation – that I’m a doofus, and the payment slipped my mind until the morning after it was due. I was told flatly – and rather rudely – that “Big Ass Bank” does not refund any fees that are not of the bank’s error.
Well, that’s sweet of them.
Anyway, because I was getting nowhere with this attitude-laden customer service asshole, I hung up and tried my luck again. The second time around, I got an Indian man who was much gentler, but in his broken English explained their policy just as Ass #1 had. I said “Fine, give me to a supervisor, I’m closing my account.”
If haggling with credit card companies is a game of poker, “I’m closing my account” is the ultimate bluff. They have to act as though you actually are closing your account, and if there is any possible thing they can do to keep you, this is when they’ll pull such a miracle out when you were denied at every earlier point. (Hint: works well with cable companies too.)
It is at this point that I get an account specialist on the line – a woman – and explain that I’m closing my account because I’m being treated less than ideally. She begins the standard apology line, but, to my dismay, does not conclude it with an offer to remove the fee! “I’m sorry sir, but that is our policy.”
I’ve now had the policy explained to me by three different people – it’s not as though I don’t understand the concept of a policy, rather it is that I am highly skeptical of their supposed inability to break such a policy.
“Okay,” I said. “Offer me something. What can you offer me to get me to stay? I am obviously dissatisfied, and I am going to close this account unless you can do something for me.”
“Well, sir, I see that you have accumulated X number of rewards points on your account. I can help you redeem those and try and get a little bit of that money back.”
Gee, really? Does that come with a free kick to the balls? is what I want to ask, but I don’t… because at this rate, I could be charged a Kick To The Balls fee. “So you can do nothing for me? A higher limit? A lower rate? Nothing???”
“Well, sir, a limit increase would have to be approved by the credit reporting agencies (WHAT?), and you already have the lowest possible rate (no I don’t).”
In the end, my “Big Ass Bank” card has lived to fight another day due to a technicality – I am a paltry four points shy of a slightly-less-insignificant rewards plateau, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let pride get in the way of a shopping spree!
- Call #2
Have you ever walked out of a restaurant? Have you ever had an experience so piss poor that you wouldn’t even stay and eat the trash meal they were trying to serve you? Isn’t it a relief to walk into the next restaurant, have an ordinary yet wonderful-by-comparison meal? That is what happened to me when I called the next company.
My other primary card is with the local bank that I have my checking account with, and have for a number of years. I’ve had this card account open for several years as well, and, shy of a rewards system, it has treated me better than any other card I’ve ever had (and I’ve had an extraordinary number of them).
I get on the line with a representative and explain my lapse. She is polite – even giggles when I refer to myself as a doofus for paying late – and with nary a hesitation she removes the charge.
Mission accomplished. I’m batting .500, it’s time to retire.
Mr. Wallace,” she says, just prior to the call’s conclusion, “I would also like to let you know that we would be happy to increase your credit line if you should so desire.”
Mr. Wallace likes large credit lines. Mr. Wallace is financially aroused. Mr. Wallace sees his debt-to-credit ratio shrink, his FICO score rise, and it’s as though Mr. Wallace is watching financial porn.
“Yes, that would be splendid!” I glow, as each passing second washes away bruises from the beating at the hands of “Big Ass Bank”. “I appreciate your help!”
I pressed my luck here, too. Asked for a reduced rate, but was rejected. Ah hell, you can’t have it all. But playing ball with me on the late fee and then offering a line increase out of nowhere goes a long way to me resuming my practice of using their card exclusively.
And in five more dollars, my relationship with “Big Ass Bank” will come to an abrupt end thanks to an unfortunate anti-consumer policy. I’ve had dozens of credit cards over the years, and have groveled to plenty of them to get late fees taken down. This is the first time I’ve been flat-out rejected. Should I take that kind of treatment for a pittance reward? I think not.
Loyalty pays. So does doing business with a non-ginormous national bank.