Bank of America Part I

This morning I was sleeping soundly in my happy little bed with my new electric blanket and dreaming of glad tidings and a new year full to the brim of puppies and snowflakes. Or something like that. I was awakened by the shrill irritation that is my new land line. I didn't ask for a home phone, I didn't want a home phone (okay maybe a little bit but shhh!) and now it had the fucking gall to RING. I detest the sound of ringing phones. It is horrid and dreadful and usually means that someone wants something or needs to say something or I have to (God forbid) DO something. So I keep my phone on vibrate and encourage the practice in others. Few people even know I have a home phone, and of course I have to go and tell the whole fucking Internets. *sigh* This has nothing, whatsoever to do with this post, except for the fact that I received a phone call this morning that woke me from my pleasant slumber.

Teddy Bear was on the line, stressed and stressing. It seems that my checking account was overdrawn by a tidy sum due to an error by Bank of America. What? Which bank was that? Oh, that is right, Bank of America. Please note this for your future banking needs. Stay away from B of A. Far, far away. Let's begin with a little back story, okay?

Over the past three months I paid off my Bank of America credit card. I had carried a balance for far too long and we (Teddy Bear) worked diligently to get out (my) ass out of debt. I paid the bulk of it, found that there was a stupid interest charge, paid it, and then another interest charge on the interest charge. The last payment was $2.05. I paid all the payments (as I always do) online, and then entered them into Quicken. I have a thing for Quicken. It makes my heart a flutter and my knees weak. Every transaction goes into Quicken. Pack of gum? Check! House payment? Check! So imagine my surprise when Teddy Bear wakes me up at the fuckall time of 9am to tell me that Bank of America had withdrawn $1400.00 from my checking account. (I must say, in my overdrawn defense that I only keep a bit of spending money in my checking account at any given time, and some day I shall post more on the crazy money ways of the TB and myself.)

Back to 9am this morning. Checking account: negative. Chicken: making Mommy a pot of decaf coffee. Mommy: on hold with Bank of America on two separate lines. Because on one line I had called ABC phone number and on the other XYZ phone number and I was waiting to see which would pick up first. At the same time TB is calling my bank (the holder of my checking account and NOT B of A) and I was online checking my Bank of America account. Which had a -$1400.00 balance because DUH they had just taken +$1400 and added it to my zero balance credit card and that equals negative fourteen hundred in the credit card world. (Um, Eliza, please skip this whole thing if you haven't already puked from the cornucopia of numbers.)

Where was I? Oh yes. On hold. For 24 minutes. Yesterday being a holiday and all, everyone needed to call Bank of America. If you are getting tired of reading "Bank of America" please understand that I am trying to put this thought into your brain: stay the fuck away from them. So... I talk to a woman from B of A and she tells me that I must have made a mistake, no problem, everyone makes mistakes, and they can wire me the money. It will arrive by mail in 10-14 business days. I pick my jaw up off the floor and attempt to explain to her FUCKING STUPID ASS that "wiring money" does not mean printing a paper check and putting it in the mail. THE MAIL. I requested that she put someone else on the phone, someone that can help me because I was not going to limp away. Figuratively or literally. She informed me that no one can help, it was not their mistake and that I could be transferred to Online Banking because it was an online transaction. I submitted to the transfer and then "CLICK" the bitch dropped the call.

To Be Continued...