Friday, October 13, 2006

Show me an honest money lender, and I'll show you a very young child with a piggy bank.

My earliest memory of being screwed over by a bank involves the dollars my grandfather gave me every day, which I saved up in a plastic heart-shaped box until I had over $100.

I was not a cynical child; in fact, I was rather stupid. "What are you going to do with all that money?" I once was asked.

"Save it," I said, because that is what I do. I am a stingy little squirrel.

"Why not put it in the bank?" I was asked.

I never saw the money again. The bank was robbed, and closed soon after. (This wasn't some bullshit fairytale I was told, either, That bank was always getting hit.)

I didn't put my money in a bank after that. Until I had to get a car, of course. Car dealerships don't accept checks drawn from the National Orthopedic Mattress of New York.

But this isn't about me, it's about my family, and I'm really tired of banks fucking with the collective mind of my family.

Ameriquest, who bought out the bank which issued the credit card we use for food, charged us an over-the-line fee twice this month, with a payment already made and enough free in the account. Ameriquest has been involved in class action lawsuits for overcharging their mortgage customers, and they're doing the same thing with their credit card customers. Don't use them, ever, for anything.

Before you, dear reader, go all Suze Orman on me, I will just say that there are reasons we need to use a credit card at the end of the month to buy bread in the 99¢ store, but I'm not getting into those, because it has nothing to do with being overcharged on a bill that's paid like clockwork ahead of time every month.

Ah, someday...someday I'll have loads of money, and I'll give none of it to you, Ameriquest.

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