Fuck You MCM- A FOAD Special

Okay... follow along close. You may need a piece of graph paper and a slide rule to keep up, but here goes.

In the beginning stages of this mnd screw of house buying, I went and pulled our credit report. Looked it over, and found something weird. A company called Midland Credit had us owing them $1250.00... okay... what the fuck? So I call them.

Call 1- After getting disconnected 3 times, I finally get a talking head on the other end of the line asking for an account number. Well, I don't have one of those- so I give the social security number and she pulls it up. Apparently this is a collection account for Providian. A credit card we had years and years ago. I am pretty sure that was paid off a long time ago, I told her. Shit, fire and save matches. Now, we HAD a Providian account when we moved here. We closed it and paid it off. We paid it off in October of '04. Of course in my fluster of what the fuck, I am told "If you paid it off, no big deal, just fax us proof that it was paid off." ?!?! Okay, fine. Hang up the phone, throw a fit, and start digging through records and papers.

Call 2- Say fuck it and call Providian for information on the original account. Once we did the round about of confirming identity she tries to pull up an account that has been closed for 4 years. She gives me another company to call to trace it to- Oddly enough it is NOT Midland.

Phone call 3, I call the next company. A nice guy named Guy checks the account and confirms it indeed was paid off in October of 2004. I ask him how this account got sent to a collection agency in San Diego if it was paid off 4 years ago. He's stumped too, by the way, just as I am. I was able to get the original account number tacked to the account from him. It was a Visa- I know that because it started with a 4.

Call 4- Back to Midland to ask them where did they get the account? When? Account Number? All that happy shit. Midland gives me a Mastercard account number (Started with a 5), said they got it from some company name Presidio... Never heard of these dirtbags, btw, and Forest Gumped me saying they couldn't tell me anymore about that, because they had no contact information for Presidio. Hmmm... okay...

Call 5- To Providian, who as luck would have it, had to be routed through Washington Mutual Bank because I had no card number to give the auto-answer machine... I talked again to a nicely employed off-shore rep and asked her to grab old information. After once again talking to my husband to confirm that he was here- she said we had one account with them. Ever. A Visa account- that's right- starting with a 4. I confirmed the Visa number with her, and yep- the was the only one she had for us. Fuck a duck. Okay...

Call 6- Extensive forum digging on Google provides me with contact information to a company named Presidio, who apparently sold Midland this account of ours from Providian... I get a really nice lady there. I give her the mastercard account number that Midland says we owe for- and for the account they claim Presidio sold them with our name on it. She doesn't have it in her system. I give her our names. Nothing. Our SSNs- nope. Presidio has no fuckin idea who we are- never heard of us, have no card or account in our name, not even a single address linked to our zip code.

So to sum up thus far- Midland Credit has us on file for owing $1250 on a Providian mastercard account that Providian doesn't have in our name, that was sold to them by a collections company that has never heard of us, and are telling us we carry the burden of proving that we paid it off in 2004, even though the one we paid off was attached to a different Providian account number and was paid off to a company called Palisades.

Call 7- Back to Midland to inform them that Presidio has no record of this account, us or this ghost balance. Also tell them that Providian has no records of this account belonging to us- as all we had with them was a Visa account. She tells me to file a Police Report. (What the mother fuck??) And to contact the FTC about Identity theft.
Now I am quite sure this is not ID Theft as further down my credit report I show a soft hit in May from a skip trace, and oddly that's when this ghost account shit got added to my report. Some prick in a cube farm somewhere found a name match and tacked this shit on to our experian and transunion report, because he saw a previous account with Providian.

In any case- Call 8- The feds. Called the FTC, filed a complaint... and then asked, "Okay, now what?" The Federal Government said to inform the company that there has been a mistake- and said if they will not fix it, ultimately I am within my rights to contact an attorney and sue them.. As I never received a bill, they have provided no proof of the debt, etc. The FTC said that whether it is due to theft or not, it is still fraud.. Fraud is a felony. :) I asked her how likely it was that a thief would steal our numbers in order to open ONE card account for $1200. She kind of laughed- not really the way it usually happens... and more often than not the credit card company that originated the account would still have it tied to your name.

Call 9- Shit, It's now 10:30 p.m., I am pissed off and frustrated, and I get back with Midland to inform them that I have filed a complaint with the FTC. She says I need to get a police report. Wait, what? Yes, see because she says it is Identity theft... I say, one, I am in Europe, so what police do I call? Second, I am quite sure no one stole my information in this matter, just someone in skip tracing fucked up. Now these sonsabitches want me to fax them an affidavit stating the account is not ours in order for them to do the research and take it off our credit report. Gee, just an affidavit? It's that simple, huh, bitch? Well, of course if I send it with a police report... basically- they don't acknowledge that it was a mistake, it must be theft. You fuckweed.
She says an affidavit is all that is needed, and if I send it to them with any "supporting paperwork", they will expunge my credit of this debt. Some little minimum wage prick fucks up a skip trace, and leaves me to try to prove a negative.

Midland is unwilling to do any of this research themselves- I have to get legal papers, and "supporting documentation". The burden of proof somehow does not lie on their shoulders, but the consumer's. In the mean time I get to write and retell this story to every bank we want to shop with for a mortgage until Midland stops jerking off into the cereal bowl of my life.

I have a complaint on file with the FTC. I also filed a complaint with the BBB. I am seriously considering hiring an attorney... especially if this shit delays us buying a house, or costs us massive amount of points in interest in trying to get a mortgage from some over zealous little bastard in his cubicle not verifying the validity of a debt and identification associated with it.

Calls 10, 11, 12 will be to Providian, and the other companies involved to try and sweet talk them into helping me prove my negative to these cockbites at Midland. Why should it be my job to prove THEY fucked up?! OMG I am SO fucking pissed off. I may make calls 13, 14 and 15 to stars and stripes, and consumer groups to besmirch these fucktards in every public forum I can find.
So MCM, Midland Credit Management you can FUCK OFF AND DIE for adding this much more bullshit to the stress of moving and house hunting. Your company sucks big fat dick, and I hope you get put out of business by the federal government, with your managers led away in chains. Your company is unethical and I would be surprised if you make any money at all with your business practices. FOAD. You suck something fierce.

THAT is the question

So, in getting real about where we are going to live in BFE North Dakota, I have been weighing options. Being that the waiting list for base housing is 6-12 months, we are going to have to find someplace to live, even if it is temporary... and hey, I just happened to notice the economy is in the shitter! Not so good news for most- but with a stable job and income... it's a good time to consider buying a house. Prices are down, people are desperate to sell, etc.

We could rent. Find a place that is not the size of a refrigerator box with a washer and dryer, and who allow a cat... and looks like rent on such a place will run about $800+ a month. Now- even given a pretty shitty interest rate to account for us not owing anyone money... A pretty nice set up- like 2200 sq ft and a yard, etc will run $700 PITI... so... You can see why I am sticking on the idea of buying. We will be there for at least 5 years. Usually more than enough time for a recession to turn around, and fuck all, owning something there might make me like it a little. (Yes, I realize this is before spending my first winter in the middle of an iceberg landscape.)

But do I want to invest a substantial part of our life and heart into something? I can rip out the bathroom if I hate it... re do the floors... paint my fucking walls any god damned color I like!! Now I have noticed North Dakotan's like of painting walls red and putting up really ugly fucking wallpaper full of flowers and stripes... but I can rip that shit off and do my own thing if I own the place. On the other hand- if the toilet falls apart, or the outside paint looks like shit, I have to pay for it.

See, even thinking about it has my asshole all puckered up tight. This may be worse than wedding jitters... No.. yes...no... yes... Fuck it. I need a beer.

Racing

Holy sheep shit... 8 days until they come pack up the majority of our crap! Mind is racing, so instead of a big bitch fest about the move and my lack of preparedness... I have this laundry list of shit that I am happy about.

~No more AFN commercials. If you had ever seen a day's worth of this shit, you'd understand. The saddest part is when you realize that they pay people to write, record, edit and publish this retarded shit... It's positively depressing. My brain may never recover from 6 years of OPSEC, AAFES, depression awareness, suicide prevention, sexual assault, stress relief and commissary TV spots; oh- how about the "god" commercials-truly stupid shit; like they took those funny billboards about how he'll make rush hour longer, and twisted them into this pseudo religion ad- and forgot to make it funny.
Holy shit! I'll get to see a superbowl WITH commercials. On that note- more than 12 TV Channels. Now I'll have at least 150 to go around with and see that there is fucking nothing on. How glorious.

~The exchange rate will no longer be a spectator sport equally brutal as watching a rugby match. No more having to budget an extra 45-50% in order to eat out, fix the car, or buy something in town.,, and no more VAT forms. I will happily now fork over my 7% in sales tax dollars versus the paperwork and errand running for a 19% euro reduction in taxes.

~American doctors available off base. I can get a referral off base without fear of my lack of communication skills causing a rift in my medical care. I can go see a GYN- a female one even without being creeped out, and I bet I can get in without a 45 day wait. I might even have a choice of psychiatrists that don't sound and LOOK like Sigmund Freud giving me the brush off the the wiggins all at the same time... and I can call and change providers if I think my kid's doctor is an asshole for always being late without a bunch of bullshit, or being sent to another doc in the same office.

~I will no longer hate and dread grocery days because of the four story climb with 50 pounds of bags cutting the circulation off from my fingers, my legs shaking after trip three, and feeling wiped out by the whole ordeal.

~No more Sunday afternoons spent smelling the people downstairs... They like to grill on Sundays. They don't have a gas grill, and they are VERY fond of charcoal lighter fluid. Two hours every weekend, I teeter between retching and getting high off fumes. Perhaps I will give them our gas grill when we move... Cause they way they cook- can't taste very good- nothing hitting the tongue but flammable liquids.

~Should something break, need repair or need replaced- I bet I can find it in a store. Grill parts, furniture repairs, computer peripherals. I will be able to go out and buy printer ink- any time. Or fabric for sewing, and have it that day. No more waiting for shit to be shipped... OH- and we can have Dunkin Donuts coffee beans delivered, because there is no customs shitting on us. Oh, the glory of immediate satisfaction for a $2 part being there when you want to buy it. Need brake pads? How bout an alternator? Pep boys has it in stock- and they take core charges. Real acrylic nails, and Matrix hair care. Woot.

Shit... dryer is done. Must. Wash. Everything. 8 days. *8* fucking days.

Weeeee... I'm gonna throw up!

And... here we go!
On July 30th, we will take a shuttle to Frankfurt and check into a hotel. At our backs will be the KMC, our home for the last 6 years. The morning of July 31st we will board a plane for the States, leaving Europe, likely for the rest of our lives.

SO now all those in my life most concerned with dates, (besides myself,) can stop freaking the fuck out. We arrive in Baltimore (after a layover in O'Hare, the airport from depths of HELL) on July 31st. We'll be spending the night there near BWI in a Sheraton. Bright and early we'll be getting the car and beginning the long ass haul to BFE North Dakota. Still working out the stops along the way for that torturous long ride, but we'll get there, kids and cat in tow. Google maps estimates about 25 hours of actual driving time. That's a really long time to spend in a fucking car, eating from plastic wrappers, drinking from pop bottles and dealing with, a backseat monkey shit fight, and "I have too pee" every 2 hours. Even if we are stopping every night to sleep, shower and make phone calls, it is going to be a stressing few days.

In any case, there is a light at the end of the tunnel- although I get the feeling it is more like a light at the end of of roller coaster climb though a dark cave, and on the other side is a series of really steep drops and hard fucking turns... but it's a light, no doubt.

3 Ring Circus

What was that old joke? I'm a frayed knot? Ever true to Murphy and Mistress fate, on the first day of summer vacation my car is dead. Now, no big deal as it is just the the battery, and is easily remedied. The reason the car battery is dead? My son went to my car last night to get something and left the passenger side door open... so... The kid is upset- because we can't go do our "first day of summer" celebratory lunch we had planned. The husband is upset, because he has no car, and has to find someone at work to come jump the piece of shit. Both children are upset because daddy is most unthrilled, and they know he will likely remain that way for the rest of the day. Needless to say, this is not the first time it has happened, so there is frustration all around. This is, in fact, the fifth time they have killed my car... last time was 2 weeks ago, so, not cool.

Yep- I'm upset too. Not just at the lack of a car, and my plans being fucked, but at the fact that everyone around me is in a state of agitation and turmoil. See, I had plans for today. Sort through the upstairs store room, go through our closet and arrange it into pack and carry shit, then head out for a late lunch with the kids. Now I have a pissed off man, upset boy and confused girl, (because at her age, everything is the end of the world). In the grand scheme it is a hiccup, a bump in the road, no big deal... but when my nerves are frayed at a fine thread it's little shit like this that makes me want to start pulling my hair out in great gobs.

I want to be concentrating on my shit-to-do list, and instead I feel the compulsive urge to play peacemaker... not for their sakes so much as my own. I can't make anyone unpissy, though, can I? It's dumb. I shouldn't try. I can't effect anyone else... seriously though- I just want everyone to shut the fuck up, have a coke and a smile. Pull into line with my thoughts and start running towards a common goal... together. In so much as I am not the first to go through it, and I know it is irrational, but I feel like I am going to be doing the majority of this shit alone.... Like- he is doing the paperwork, (most of it), and everything else- the meat of the move- is up to me, and me alone. Medical records, transcripts, sorting absolutely everything and making sure everything is ready. That's alot of shit for one person- well, at least for me.

I may look like I am flying through it all with grace, style and agility- let's just hope when this three ring circus is done, the lions are back in their cages, the clowns are not wearing the dancer's costumes, and I remember to pack the tent poles for the new town's show.

Tick Tock Bitches

July 2... that's 21 days from today, a handful of hard working, (and likely not so good smelling), Germans will come into my house and begin wrapping and packing my shit into boxes. On the 3rd, they'll be back to put all those boxes on a truck on it's way to North Dakota. Once more, on July 8th, a moving company will come to pack up the "have to shipped quickly" shit-like pots, pans, vacuum cleaner and toys- to cart them off to the new world by air freight. As of now, I have fed 11 bags of clothes to the recycle monster, and sorted the store room into one stack of stuff to keep, and a much larger pile of shit to get rid of. Many of the cabinets in the kitchen have a few less redundant dishes. All my fabrics and crafts have been binned, as well as all holiday decor.

Today, I will scramble to get much done in the house, while trying to find a little time to relax and enjoy the awesome quiet. Tomorrow, the children will be released early and set loose upon the neighborhood (and my nerves) for the summer.... Then the quiet ends. Not only will we be running to get all the paperwork and errands for the move done with one car, (we shipped one already), but I'll be having the divine pleasure of doing so with the kids in tow, bitching for ice cream and going home.

All this lovely running about like a crazy bitch has been the cause of my lack of posting and ranting here. I would love to have a temper tantrum and the nervous breakdown I desperately deserve, but I just haven't the time these days. I will write when I have the time... as it is, the precious few quiet moments I get are split between jotting notes, making plans, thinking entirely too much, and oh, yeah- trying to have fun with my family. God forbid I try to find not only the time, but the ambition for the simple carnal pleasures of marriage.

Seriously- this is the time when those who care for me should hit their knees and thank god for the miracles of modern chemistry and mood stabilizing meds. The chores call... I think today is linen sorting and trashing (bags 12 and 13). I'll get back here when I can.