Usagi.ca

The past few days have been eventful in ways that aren’t bad.

On Friday, I would say it was actually very good. I was sitting at a play group with my son. He was in my lap and beaming while he sang along with the other kids. It felt great to be spending time with him. Our relationship is something that money can’t buy. Knowing that helps to put my financial worries in perspective.

I kept this in mind when I called the bank again on Monday. My first point of contact was still out of the office. That’s not comforting knowledge when I don’t know if and when my house is going to be taken away! I called another number I was given and landed in voice mail. I left another message. This one was returned.

The man, who I will refer to as “E,” sounded gruff and scary on his outgoing message. He was actually very pleasant as a live voice. He confirmed that all three of my accounts were being handled by the same person (who is out of the office). He told me my options, which were to pay everything in a lump sum with a two or three thousand dollars discount, or work out monthly payments. He said to think it over and call him back next Monday.

This week, we’re looking into refinancing the house. There’s enough equity to cover this debt, if only somebody will work with us.

Speaking of the house, I made another phone call today which was like, as the subject above says, pulling teeth. I had to call a different department of the branch to request a transaction history since some of our payments have gone missing. OK, maybe they aren’t missing, but I will presume they are since my contact said we are behind by that exact number of payments. I referenced the missing amounts and asked about those and was told, “Well, since you’re listed as behind, I guess they’ve been applied.”

I asked for a transaction history on the account and received push back: “Well, why do you want it?” I reiterated that there were payments made that weren’t reflected. He asked if I had receipts. I said I did and he asked if I could track things that way. I said I could not, so I needed the transaction history.

“Well, we don’t really do that,” he said very slowly.

Some of you may be familiar with the slowness with which he said that sentence. Think of a child stretching out an explanation in hopes that you will change your mind about something. Think of a friend or partner doing something similar as if you will just snap, “Fine! Forget about it!” if you realize how reluctant they are to do it. It was like that, except with a lot of money on the line.

“Who do I need to speak with about it?” I asked instead.

I’m surprised that I didn’t hear a sigh. Instead there was a long pause and then a begrudging, “I can do it, but it will take me a few days.”

Again, there was that pause as if I was going to say, “Oh, well don’t worry about it!” I actually said, “Oh, that’s fine.”

He sounded miffed when he asked for my mailing address.

Well, back to planning for me! These issues aren’t going to take care of themselves!

If I used expletives in my writing – which I don’t – I would feel inclined to say that I am [something that begins with the letter "f" and ends with a "k." It is not an eating utensil].

As my old track coach used to say, however, life is 90% mental and 10% physical. I won’t think that this is the way things will be. I refuse to let this be the end of things.

That all sounds very dramatic and pretty. Let’s get to the ugly stuff: My family moved to our current location – I’ll call it Radiator Springs – in 2007. We had a hefty savings and an excellent job lead for my husband. This lead would become a job offer with a start date that was ultimately pushed back more than a year. In the meantime, there were odd jobs that didn’t quite make ends meet, a depletion of savings and a credit card that was maxed out for living expenses. I’m talking about real living expenses, like utilities and food, not a Wii and 50 inch flatscreen HDTV.

In the end, he had an actual start date only to be told on his first day that his employment was conditional on passing a test. Long story short, there was a computer problem on the day of his test, the employer insisted that he caused this error (even though others in his section had the same glitch occur) and he was let go.

More odd jobs ensued. Food was on the table. Everything else slipped, with the essentials being held, if sometimes barely.

A few months ago, he landed a Really Good Position (not missionary. OK, it wasn’t that kind of position). Things started to get a little bit better although we are still struggling.

And then there was yesterday, when a letter arrived from the bank basically saying, “Hey, we’re going to have the Sheriff serve papers to you saying we’re going to sell your house! Call us if you want to work out something!”

I called. Multiple times. I’ve left just as many messages. It’s six hours into the business day and nobody has called me back.

It’s scary. I’m scared, but I’ll do my best. My husband and I will do our best. Somehow, we’ll make everything all right.