The letter from HSBC — which stands for something, I suppose; I’ve come to recognize it as the wolf pack that now controls my GM MasterCard — informs me that my credit line has been reduced to $1,000. A thousand dollars? I carry that in change! I am livid.
There’s a very long back-story here that I won’t detail. Suffice it to say that I’ve been feuding with banks, credit cards, credit bureaus, and verminous collection agents since the days when VISA was BankAmericard and MasterCard was MasterCharge. Not to mention Diners Club. Yes, I’ve had and divorced them all at one time or another. Rat bastards.
So I call and ask WTF. Nothing to do with me personally, they say. Seems the company has experienced an across-the-board re-evaluation and everybody…..
I cut them off. I take it personally, I tells ‘em. I don’t give a frosted shit about your cross-the-board devaluation whatever. I want my credit limit restored. This account is 17 years old and there’s never been a problem.
Sorry, sir. I can’t help you, but maybe I can get somebody on the phone who can.
Hold button music ensues. Waiting for the Fucking Queen of Sucking Hearts or something.
Turns out “somebody” can’t help either. It’s all bigger than all of us. So I say, Fine. Then since because I’m risky all of a sudden, and since because you can’t do anything about it, let’s do us both a favor and close my account.
This triggers the involvement of yet another voice on the phone, this one offering to put in a request to have my credit line increased. I told this one No Pound Sand. I don’t want an increase, I want the decrease undone. Because I know what can happen here. I apply for an increase, get rejected, and now THAT’S on my credit record. I been down this road before. You’re a pack of criminals and psychopaths.
So I order the account closed. Now I ask where I can send an email to confirm that this account has been terminated at customer instigation, not the bank’s. I am assured I will get a letter from HSBC to that effect, but I don’t trust them. So it turns out if I want to write them, I have to do it on-line. But the on-line communication is only available to people who have already established log-in and password privileges, which (a) I haven’t ever bothered doing; they make me insane, and (b) can’t do now anyway because my account is closed!
So I call back and get a fax number. I try 3 times over 5 days and can’t fax — no answer. I seek an alternative on-line, but when I send the email, I get a reply thanking me for my correspondence, but it has to be sent somewhere else. This happens twice, to separate email addresses listed on their web site.
Is this typical? I wonder if this was the way it was BEFORE the gubmint took over GM. Because it sure looks like gubmint procedure now!
Today I arrive home and find a letter from HSBC (“City of Industry, CA 91716”) informing me that my account “has been closed.” The passive exonerative. Shit just happens, nobody actually shits. Who closed it, fucknuckles? THAT WAS THE POINT.
So I call again, endure the music, blow through the first wave of corporate flak (“Oh, it’s always just a generic letter, sit, it’s not like we regard our account holders as anything more than revenue-producing data…” “….Really? Well I’m not just a fucking generic customer and my credit report isn’t just a fucking generic credit report, and the whole fucking reason you’re fucking talking to me to fucking begin with is because of that fucking attitude”), and get the legendary supervisor who promises me the customized, personalized, specific letter I demand. In 10m – 14 working days.
That’s where it rests. That’s the way it is. Stay tuned. And don’t forget to sign up for my on-line charm school.