Open Letter to Amex: What more can I say?

Dear American Express (and other Bill Collectors Worldwide),

So I just got off the phone with you, and after 25 minutes of back and forth, I have one thing to ask: What more can I say to make you understand?

You know, there is something about hitting the rock bottom of powerlessness, a place where you are under no illusions about the fact that you have not the slightest, merest shred of control, that things are completely out of your hands, that you are not capable of complying with a request, no matter how reasonable, not able to make good on a debt that you owe, period. A place where shame and fear give way to boldness and baldness, like digging straight down into the earth, through the darkeness of shame, into the hot, burning, purifying core, and emerging on the other side of the world naked and uncovered, no hiding truth. That's who I am right now. That's where I am right now.

Now, as a corporation and not an individual, I know that I will not be heard. But when you hire people to call me, over and over, trained to coax/warn/threaten me into paying, you offer me a human interface to communicate with the company. Frequently, cyclically, I am telling my story to a new voice over the phone, each one completely unfamiliar with my case but for the brief preparation summary screen that their automated call center ticket system software gives (Oh, I know all about how a call center works, having worked one myself). Over and over, I confront the powerlessness not only of myself, but of the caller. Each and every one tells me that they lack the power to negotiate with me, to work with me. How dare you send them to me so un-empowered, so ill-equipped, so desensitized to humanness? What's the point? I can't be browbeaten into paying you if there is no money, and none on the way. I can't make something from nothing, and if I could force someone to hire me, we wouldn't be talking on the phone. You force me to shame myself over and over with no result, morphing my measured explanations into begging. It's impossible to forgive, and there's no place to direct my anger but an open letter that I'm sure you're not even reading.

I'd love to work together to preserve my good name. You've no right to trash it under these circumstances! Reporting to the credit agencies, selling debt to collections, and suing me are all tantamount to harassment and torture when I am completely incapable of settling even the portion of the debt you originally asked for, let alone the exhorbitant king's ransom produced by the total amount due + fees and penalties. Why single me out among the many that are suffering in today's economic crisis? As a customer in good standing for all those years, why throw away a wonderful, once healthy relationship for circumstances out of my control? Why not negotiate? Take my small, good faith offerings, and give me a responsive interface encouraging me to continue chipping away at the debt until it is all paid. That is what I'm asking for. We both want the same thing, and only you have the power to make it happen for both of us. Help me help you help me! I know with the credit crunch and the wall street instability you're probably just passing the buck, but could you at least have passed it to someone with hands? You're beating a dead horse with me. I have basic math and several physical laws, including the law of conservation of matter, on my side. I can't make 350$/mth total earnings = 450$/mth payment to Amex. If you find a way to make it work, let me know though. Until then, don't call me, I'll call you. What more can I say?

Post Theme: The Recession (Intro) by Young Jeezy

Dying to Shout

What do you do when you can't say the thing that you really want to say because "out loud" is too public a place? When even the internet blog is too public? Inside my head isn't good enough -- nobody's listening in there but me, and I know if I could just say it, there'd be somebody out there who understood. I'm looking for a commiserative conversation here. Fruitless and futile, I know, especially when I can't talk about what I'm talking about...

I hope reading this is pissing you off and confusing you. Because then, you might get annoyed. You might even get a little frustrated. ^%$#!*$#)$%@(@&$^)$^)(@^#%$@%%$(&$^*&#%%(@%%)@&? Was that a little hard to read? Seeing a little red now? Great! Welcome to my motherf*cking world friend! Thanks for understanding.

Woo sah. Goosfrabah. Relax, relate, release. Now that you know where I'm coming from, here's a random list of things pissing me off in no particular order today:
1) Living @ home
2) Having less than a little money
3) Having a menial retail job, no healthcare, and being a part of the working poor with a Stanford education
4)Commercial Christmas decorations and pop music
5)My boss's boss has no education
6)Writer's block is closing in on me with 1/2 my novel left to complete
7)My clothes are old and out of date
8) The list of things I can't afford includes things like groceries
9)I'm having motivation problems with diet and exercise
10)The expensive hair and nail vitamin (55$ a pop) I tried gave me breakouts and set my crotch on fire (not kidding)...I did get it for free if you're wondering...
11)I may be over the weight limit for the horseback riding beach adventure I signed up for next month
12) I lack the willpower to do low carb again
13) I hate my parent's church but can't do anything about it
14) My family is all going different directions for the holidays and after Christmas I will be left alone in this house while everyone else lives their life
15) Lack of employment is forcing me to consider applying for the police department. I will have to submit to extensive background checks, polygraph, multiple interviews... but at least it's a salary + benefits
16) You probably didn't even read this far and I'm probably talking to myself

Grrrrrrr!

Post Theme: Papercut by Linkin Park

No News Is Good News?

"No news is good news." (Rant On) Whoever said that was not trying to find a job when they said it. They must have been waiting for something impossibly wonderful, something that would devastate if not the desired outcome. It couldn't have been something as two-edged, as cursed a blessing, as gainful employment. No way. (Rant Off)

'Sigh'... I guess you can tell from reading this that nothing happened today of note. No one called, no one wrote. They are maintaining radio silence in an effort to drive me mad. Still writing from the location of Screwed, which is just North of Forget It, East of A Rock, and West of A Hard Place. (Now that made me smile). Why does the job search have to be so brutal? If I were a tech person, I would have already written a virus that made my resume and a flashing "hire me or else" banner into pop-ups. I would have already uploaded it to the world at large, and would currently be conducting a prolonged salary negotiation in which I bartered not only the cessation of the pop-up, but the technology itself. Unfortunately, as Napoleon Dynamite would say, "I don't have any skills".

What accounts for this frowny, angsty post? Here's a hint: the bills come on time, even when the checks stop!!! I got no loot, and no ends neither. This will be such a riveting story to tell when I'm sitting on Oprah's couch and she is trying to wrap her mind around what a superstar I am, but right now that is thin comfort, like the newspaper duvets that homeless people use. Ugh. Okay, I am depressing myself and wallowing. I wish that I could change the subject to something impossibly stimulating and interesting, but I have nothing else on my mind, nothing witty or brilliant to say, and that says enough. I'm calling it a night. Forgive me!

Post Theme: Hostile Gospel 2 by Talib Kweli

The Money Pit

Tonight, I am listening to bluesy jazz (Charlie Parker, All The Things You Are), and listening to rain pound the window. I am writing from the money pit. It sucks down here. There's no funny Tom Hanks to make me laugh by falling down the stairs.

I have come face to face with my own dire and desperate straits. Each day that passes I am cognizant of the bills due, the bills on the way, and the lack of money in my pocket. It's either invent something brilliant in the next twenty seconds, win the lottery, or get a menial job and tread water until the first paycheck. Even as I submit my resume for six figure jobs, I'll be scrubbing floors somewhere soon. I can't believe it's come to this. The only thing worse that not having a job is having one like the one staring me in the face.

Oh well. Better hit the streets tomorrow, trolling for open positions. Thing is, down here in the land that time forgot, the open positions are the equivalent of sharecropper gigs. Needless to say I am highly resistant to letting my life turn into a remake of O Brother Where Art Thou?.