Jim and I are in the process of (most likely) losing our home due to these wearisome and troubled economic times. It's not really a matter of "if". It's most likely WHEN. And we realize this. We're even learning to accept it. "As far as I'm concerned," I tell Jim, "let's at least have some fun with it, for cryin out loud", knowing that the bank will, in the end, have the last word. I look at Jim and can see that he wholeheartedly agrees with me. He disappears onto his studio and returns with a 6" stack of paperwork regarding our mortgage. [I'd put an adjective to that but I'd have to just bleep it out later.] So, this can only mean one thing. I am being handed a baton that I really do not want, but must grab hold of and run with. It's only fair. When it comes to the bank, Jim is short on levity. And really, it's my own fault. I asked for it. Why can't I just keep my mouth shut?
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| The current size of our house since it's original purchase in 2007 |
Today I begin. I grab the recent letter received from the bank, along with all the mismatched paperwork that has previously been mailed, faxed, or filed, go into my office and lay it all before me. I push papers here and toss papers there. I arrive at the five significant dates I am looking for. These five dates represent hours spent pulling together paperwork, hunting down pay stubs, and answering the myriad questions banks love to ask, but don't really want until they really want them. These dates are the proof we need to show out Lender why they are wrong and WE are right; that we have done what has been requested of us. We have been responsible. We have shown due diligence. And, we've shown it f-i-v-e separate times! Same information, same house, and same occupants. Only one thing has changed. Our income, which has been very recent. So why five times? Because over at the bank, none of the departments talk to each other. They have not learned to share information either. I briefly picture these "bank people" (said with a snarl) surrounded by tall plastic building blocks, each one sitting on a single carpet square. Now I put them all in a time-out. Then I go home and forget they are there. But really, if I had to do what these folks are doing nowadays, I'd surround myself with plastic blocks and each my lunch in the closet.
So, now I'm armed with the pertinent information I will need to address this matter and get on with my day. I call the number noted on the letter and have my first phone conversation with an "Yvonne" from Chase Bank (our lender), regarding our (delinquent) home loan. In the past I have learned that, when calling a business to discuss any type of unpleasantness, it is helpful to develop a casual and friendly relationship with the customer service rep. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it don't. Our conversation lasted for 45 minutes. These are the highlights.
September 8, 2010 9:06 a.m.
I call the number as directed on the letter admonishing us to "Act now to Avoid Foreclosure". A female with a thick Asian accent answers and begins asking her memorized questions. We spend the next 5 minutes verifying that I am, indeed, who I claim to be. Seriously, what would be my motive to lie? I'm the one who owes all that money on a house worth only half of it. I soon realize that up until this moment I did not exist to them. Jim handled all this banter and double talk, so why should they suddenly start speaking to ME? Like it or not, I'm all they got. Sucks to be them today. And the dialogue begins with me.
"Well, I'm calling regarding the letter we received today telling us to call immediately in order to avoid foreclosure?" Why do I say this as if it were a question?
"Oh," she replies, "that's just a computer-generated letter. You can disregard that."
"So, I didn't really need to call you?"
"No, you needed to call so we can tell you how late you are on your payments and how much you owe." Yvonne isn't showing a glimmer of mercy here.
I turn the letter over in my hands. "You mean you're going to go over the stuff that's in this letter? The one I should disregard?" I toss it in the trash.
Yvonne proceeds to read me my outstanding balance as I follow along with her from the letter I have quickly pulled from the trash can.
"Yeah." I agree. "That's what it says alright. Oh, can you give me your name? Just for my notes here." I am a steadfast note taker. I quickly pat my diligence on the back.
"It's E-bon" she tells me.
"Can you maybe spell that for me?" She spells it and I discover it is not E-bon at all. Her name is Yvonne. "Thank you. OK, great. Now, is there something else I need to know?"
Yvonne answers my question with a question. "No?" Are we on Jeopardy? I want to ask if that's her final answer.
"Can you tell me the status of our loan? I mean, are we in foreclosure?"
"Oh! No." (I'm sure I hear a faint "not yet" through the receiver.) "You are in early loss mitigation. Just today your escrow account is being reviewed to see if you qualify for a loan modification." I can almost hear the crackle of the paper she is reading from.
"Early Loss Mitigation. Now what exactly is that?", I ask. "I mean, how early is Early? And when does Late come? Is there a Late Loss Mitigation?"
exactly? Early and then, NOT early. Can you give me some kind of timeline? or a line graph? I'm really good with line graphs." Can she appreciate the fact that I'm a detail kinda gal?
"No, it's all the same", she says. Hold the phone. Two minutes earlier she says its all different. Now it's all the same. What changed? Was there an eclipse I'm unaware of?
So I repeat her words back to her. "It's all the same". I'm trying to jot down those illusive details but can't write anything besides Yvonne's question marks. "It's the same? Wait. What?"
Yvonne moves on. "I do see here we need updated information from you."
"You mean since last Wednesday?" Sadly, I actually expect this comment to come from her.
"Uh...yes." She names off the information needed which is just about everything we have already sent five times. I glance quickly at those dates I've jotted down. September 1st is the latest. Last Wednesday.
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| Not Yvonne. |
Yvonne decides she doesn't want the dates, as if they could later become incriminating evidence. "No, don't concern yourself with that right now." she says calmly.
"Right. Can you tell me when to be concerned about it? I should probably note that in my calendar." I protect the list of dates by covering them with the palm of my hand.
Yvonne ignores my 'idiotic' question. "So, as I was saying, we got some information, but not all."
I have no recourse but to ask, "What part didn't you get?"
I imagine her skimming the monitor. "Your pay stubs", she says. I look through the packet that was faxed on September 1st. There they are. Pay stubs. Right there. AHA!
"You didn't get copies of recent pay stubs?" I ask, already knowing the answer.
"Yes, but they aren't on the proper form." Yvonne is not even close to sounding convincing.
"There's a FORM for that?" I ask. Incredulously would fit here.
"Well, no. Let's see here. OK. We did get all of your information, but SOME of it is on the wrong form. Your income and monthly expenses. We need it on a new form. A 2010 Form." she tells me.
"You need the same information we sent, but you need it on a new form. A Chase form?" I ask.
"Yes." I sense she's feeling that self-assurance coming back. "Also, we need a 4506-T."
"You need another request for last year's tax return?" I know exactly what a 4506-T form is because we've already sent it, yep, you guessed it. 5 times. And I have DATES. "Did you know that we've sent "the bank" (still in neutral corners here) five signed requests AND (♪ta da♫) an original transcript of last year's tax return. As far as I know, our tax return hasn't changed. Can they even do that?" I quickly look at my dates again. Oh please ask me for those dates. I'm so ready.
Apparently Yvonne doesn't like tax questions. "M'am," she says firmly, "I'm just telling you what we need from you to help you."
I think, but do not say, "What we're doing right now? This? This is VERY helpful to me. And I imagine it will continue to be more helpful if no one thinks to hang up."
Instead, I continue on with the form crap. "So, this new Chase form. The bank has been using this for several months now? Is it a secret form? Is it encrypted? We've never heard of it before."
Yvonne replies curtly. "I really can't answer that."
"oh. Uh. OK, hmmm", I blather. Apparently Yvonne has signed some sort of confidentiality agreement I am unaware of. "Never mind then. Back to the forms. What you're saying is, even though you have all the information you need to proceed with whatever it is "the bank" is doing, you need us to take that information and put it on different forms; Chase forms. Then we are to fax it all again. But not to the number we used last week. To a different fax number. A better fax number. Is that correct?" I'm smiling now because of the absurdity of this entire line of questioning. I'm imagining having lunch with Yvonne and us laughing over this silliness.
"Yes. That is correct." she says. What I really hear is, "No duh!" Psh. Our lunch is definitely off.
"Where can I get these new forms of yours?" I ask. I've decided to stop saying "the bank". Yvonne and I are now clearly in each other's lives.
"They're on our website at blah-dot-blah-blah-blah." Now we're getting somewhere. Thank God. I fold up the paper with my five dates scribbled neatly in the margins. Evidence to be introduced at a later date.
"So. I can just download them and fill them out online?"
"Yes. Right online." I think Yvonne is feeling hopeful about wrapping this up.
"Sweet! These are writable Adobe files, right? So I'll just put the same information on the new forms and then I just send them back to you online?"
"No, you have to print them out and fax them." she sighs. Will this ever end?
Before I can stop myself I say, "Wait. What year is this?" What a complete and colossal waste of time, I'm thinking. I want to quiz her on adobe files, but I realize that would just be rude.
Before I can stop myself I say, "Wait. What year is this?" What a complete and colossal waste of time, I'm thinking. I want to quiz her on adobe files, but I realize that would just be rude.
"OK, I'll print them out and fax them. But there goes another tree." I wonder if they are going green where she comes from.
"If you would prefer to talk to someone else who you will believe, I can leave a message for someone to call you." she tells me.
"Oh no no, I'm totally invested now. Yvonne, may I call you Yvonne?, why do you think that I wouldn't believe you? This is completely believable. It's been believable since last year. Do you have any job openings? Because I could do this job even better than you. I confuse people just by entering a room. Where are you located?"
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| I love line graphs. Color me red. |
"Pardon me?" she asked.
"Located. Like, on a map. What continent are you on?"
Yvonne offers a long pause. "Uh, well, I'm... off coast."
I get the distinct feeling I am gaining ground on some top security Intel. "Off coast. What coast?" I ask casually.
"Well, I'm in the Philippines."
"No kidding. Really? Where they make sushi and stuff? Perfect! Because I am totally willing to relocate." I tell her. This is fun.
Yvonne offers a long, long silence. I thinks she's finally done with me. Did I insult her without knowing?
"Is there anything else I can help you with?" I want to say, "You mean aside from a job in the Philippines?
"Seriously? You still want to help me? You're very sweet. OK, let me think. Hmm. Tell ya what. I'll give it some thought and get back with you. Will you be there?"
Yvonne is quick to answer this one. "I'm sorry. I can't guarantee that you'll be speaking with me."
I can do ya one better and guarantee that she WON'T be. Alright then, no birthday card for YOU.
"OK then, thank you for calling Chase Bank."
"Wait!" I pleaded. "Don't I get to do the survey or something now?"
9:51 a.m. Next thing I hear is a click, followed by an automated recording. "If you'd like to make a call, please hang up and... blah blah blah."
I guess I called "the bank" after all. And things were going so well with me and Yvonne. Now I'm wondering if her name is really Yvonne at all.
~Susan Renee~
p.s. you can see that there was no "cutting to the chase" in this foot-long posting. I wrote it mostly for the Mustache Man and me so we will never forget the importance of maintaining a good sense of humor. It's critical.
