This past week I ended a close intimate relationship I thought I would never get out of.
I wanted to, heaven knows. But there were too many ties, too many strings, too many commitments.It just didn't seem possible.
I had tried many times before to end it all and failed. For seven long years I tried. I wanted my freedom.
Sometimes I came close, but always, in the end, it was easier to stay where I was.
You know how it is when they know everything about you? And they love your company so much they become possessive?
I had resigned myself.
My credit card and me would be together forever.
Oh sure, at first it was all rosy. I signed on for an introductory rate of 5.9 percent. That was, as I said, seven years ago. All was cool. I bought skis, boots, a surfboard, a TV. The basics.
When I would experience a temporary cashflow problem, I discovered that anytime, day or night, my credit card was there for me.
The bills kept coming with minimum payments of either zero or $16. What a relationship!
But then I got to my credit limit and the minimum payment got to $160 a month, approximately $159.09 of which was interest. At the non-introductory rate of 21 percent.
This took, like, four months.
One day I called and asked how long it would take to pay off my balance if I kept paying just the minimum.
"Ninety-nine years," I was told.
"Hah," I shot back. "I won't live another 99 years."
But that scared me, so I sacrificed, denying myself the western cheeseburger, getting the 99 cent Famous Star instead, and no fries and just water. You'd be amazed how that kind of spartan effort adds up.
Finally I got back to a zero balance. Or so I thought. Then last week I got a bill for $8.27. Apparently, that was the interest on zero.
It drove me to the 800 number. I had to get out for good.
I listened to my options. Push 1 for English, push 2 for current balance, push 3 for mailing address, push 4 for request to raise your balance, push 5 for duplicate card . . .
I had personally never gotten past "2" before.
There was no choice for closing out an account. I pushed "0" for a customer service representative. Judy came on the line.
"Can I help you?"
"Yeah," I said, "I want to close out my account."
"Just a minute and I'll ring that department."
Within seconds, Judy was back.
"That line is busy," she said. "Can I take your number and they'll get back to you, probably in two to three days?"
"I'd really like to close my account today," I said.
"Can I ask why?" asked Judy.
"Does 21 percent ring a bell?"
Judy did not even chuckle. Instead she said, "Oh, perhaps we could discuss other interest rates."
Now they tell me.
I was getting suspicious. What were they doing back in the closing department anyway? Waxing the Lexus? The truth, I suspected, was they didn't know how to close an account because they'd never closed one.
Finally, Judy said, "If you'd like, I can close you out."
I said I'd like.
"Would you like that to be effective today or when we get your payment?" she asked. Hey, one last try. I admired the persistence.
"Let's go with today," I said.
And then from Judy, in a tone I didn't like much, "Please cut up your card immediately."
Don't you hate it when it ends badly?
Lee Benson accepts faxes at 801-237-2527 and e-mail at (lbenson@desnews.com). His column runs Monday, Wednesday and Friday.