I beg to differ.
If my call was that important to you, large phone company of whom I will not name, then why did I have to endure a 2 1/2 hour call time that was littered with holding times, transfer times, getting accidentally disconnected, and computerized-automated customer service representatives?
*Excuse me, dear readers*
Lumberjill is frustrated.
As you may or may not remember, The Lumberjack and I are in the process of purchasing a home out in Ruralville.
Well, we are in the midst of getting all of our paperwork to our lender.
Our lender-ish people pulled our credit reports.
And now, dear readers, I would like to present to you a horrifying conversation that ensued between my husband and I:
Interruption: This is not word-for-word. I repeat, this is not word-for-word. This is paraphrased. Lumberjill style.
LJ (short for Lumberjack! keep up, people!): Ha! Dude, for the first time in our marriage, my credit score is higher than yours!
Interruption: I do not take this news well. It has been a constant in our marriage that LJ is better at building houses, falling trees, wakeboarding, and reaching things in the cabinet above the refrigerator. My strengths have always been typing speed, grammar, cleaner teeth, more book smarts, and responsibility.
The Lumberjack cannot have a better credit score than me.
Has the world gone mad?
LJ: Yup. They pulled our credit report and you went to collections!
Me: I went to collections?! For what?
LJ: Back in 2007. It was with a very large, popular, national phone company that many people would know of so it would be best to not specifically name it in your blog.
Me: Oh, dear. Shouldn’t they tell me I missed a payment?
LJ: Guess not.
Me: Wait? Why me? I don’t make any money.
LJ: I know. You just cost me money.
LJ: Well, the Lenderly Lady wants you to type out an explanation for why you went to collections for $68 in 2007.
Now, dear readers.
Lumberjill is in charge of the bill payments in our home.
And I pride myself on paying everyone when they ask for their money . . . not just when I deem fit.
So, I am slightly perplexed as to the events that are occurring.
A) Shouldn’t I have been notified that my payment was late?
B) Wouldn’t they have just turned off my phone at some point?
C) Wouldn’t it be more than $68 since 2007? You know . . . with the late fees and such?
D) Shouldn’t they let someone know when they are being sent to . . .gulp . . . collections?
So, last night, I call this very large, popular, national phone company that many people would know of so it would be best to not specifically name it on this here blog.
And the first person to greet me is the automated-computerized lady.
I am sorry, folks.
But I really do not like talking to this lady.
Fake lady: Are you calling about a home phone? Please say “yes” or “no.”
Fake lady: I’m sorry! I couldn’t quite understand you. Let’s try that again. Are you calling about a home phone? Please say “yes” or “no.”
At the very, exact moment that I say yes, Little Dude asks for milk. And, in doing so, he has thwarted my plans of communicating with fake lady.
Fake Lady: I’m sorry. Let’s try something different.
When all else fails, just yell representative.
Fake Lady: I’m sorry! I didn’t quite understand you.
Fake Lady: Ok. I will connect you to someone. But first, let me get some information so I know where to send you.
I really have a hard time with the fake lady. I hate to admit it, but she gets to me. She really does. Even when I am mad, she remains calm.
And that is just annoying.
Fight back, Fake Lady!
So, I get to talk to someone.
Who does not know how to help me . . . so he transfers me.
Holding, holding, holding . . . .
This person thinks he can help me.
Person: You are in New Jersey, right?
Me: No . . . I am in ______, not New Jersey.
No offense to the fine people of New Jersey.
Person: Oh, I cannot help you. Let me transfer you.
Holding, holding, holding . . . your call is extremely important to us . . . holding, holding, holding . . . . cue “Lady in Red” (name that singer) . . . holding, holding, holding . . .
I’m going to spare you all the details, but I was transferred about 5 times over 1 hour and it ended with them finally transferring me to the correct office, only for that office to be closed and could I please try my call tomorrow.
Which brings us to this morning.
It was a lot of the same rig-a-ma-roo, folks.
I got disconnected twice.
I had to talk loudly (not yelling, of course) to fake lady numerous times.
I met several helpful, yet clueless customer service associates.
All of whom agreed I owed nothing.
All of whom could not find anything that went to collections.
All of whom who searched my social security number for any clues.
I am clean.
Take that, Lumberjack!
And I would like to add that I have also never had a cavity, nor have I had a speeding ticket.
Ask the Lumberjack how many speeding tickets and cavities he has accumulated over his 29 years.
For kicks and grins.
Anyways, I am transferred to the last lady.
She was supposed to be my helper, the woman who make all the wrongs right.
And guess what.
She was rude.
So, I did what any rational, responsible, cavity-less, mother of four would do.
You would, too, people, after a combined total of 2.5 hours of phone time only to learn that no one can help me.
So, I asked rude lady for a number where I could reach her customer service department.
I am one of those people.
Oh, I didn’t call.
I was sick to death of being on the phone.
But I bet she’s shaking in her boots.
So, now I get to call 3 credit bureaus and dispute this mysterious collections charge of $68.
I will pay someone $68.
I don’t care.
Just leave me alone.
Anyways, I am in no humor to call now.
I must gird up my loins first.