Wall St trumps Main St - BobKat Announces Rate Hike to Unsolicited...

I'd love to say this post is tongue in cheek, but it's not. Instead, "I'm Mad as Hell and I'm Not Going To Take it Anymore!".


No, this isn't about ganja.

It's about my current bank that I've had for over 10 years, and credit card companies I've been a well treated client for over 20 years... and how 5 of 8 are screwing me.

My bank where I've had what i thought was "Free Checking" for years. Of late I've discovered they've been charging me a $15/month maintenance fee, for over a year now and i didn't realize it.

I've been scrimping pennies, trying hard to stay in a budget that I can feel comfortable in. I'm one of the fortunate one's. I'm employed... 12 years almost. This year we didn't get a raise. That's a shame, as I busted my ass last year for the company. You'd think they could take out a loan to give us a raise.

Sorry, got off subject there.

I also have a savings acct. with the bank. I have it because of an identity theft event, an event filed with the FTC, and I have it in writing, my identity was stolen. I spoke with my bank, and they recommended a "free savings account". I could have my paycheck therein deposited, then transfer what I'd need to checking. The ID theft happened in 2007. My plan worked well, until...

A month ago I discovered a strange charge online accessing my account. I was looking at Savings. There was a $5 service charge. Hmm. My house mate who also had the same bank/similar account noticed it too. What was it for???

But there was more. I called my bank and expressed my concern. I had signed up for "free savings".  She pointed out the agreement allowed them to change the rules anytime they liked.

I've listened to enough Market Place on NPR to know a line like that. I told the person, given the fact that I had a case filed and verified by the FTC, they couldn't charge me a service charge out of the blue. I asked, "had they notified me?"

She said "yes..." the person I was transferred to, that I was told could help. That person couldn't. It was the rule I accepted the rules, that they could change the rules at any time.

Total charge? Over $200-$300/yr

Add that to all the other interest, taxes, fees, basic needs and commuting expenses, it's amazing I have any extra money each day.

******

Well, effective immediately, I have no choice but to enact a citizen's charge for any and all junk mail, credit-card offers, special offers or free stuff, if I join or submit an application for approval. Effectively immediately a service charge of $25 will be assessed per offer, that I receive by mail, unsolicited. Included in that charge is a maintenance fee, handling charge.

It costs me to look at, consider, look at, read or shred that unsolicited mail. I could send a letter "opting out of receiving these offers". But they can "opt out" too. Or agree to to rates. Just send me a terr detailing your request. A $30 service charge will apply to consider your request.

It's up to you to read this post... failure to do so does NOT excuse or exclude you from said fees and charges.

Thank-you... my new business model should prove as lucrative as what my bank is now feeling !

How is it as a tax-payer who bailed out Wall St., who still gets bonuses that I could barely make in my lifetime, raise my rates across the board, and claim they have no choice but to raise every fee, charge, and cost to benefit them, when they are the ones who screwed up and put society in the mess of a GREAT RECESSION it's in???

While their borrowing and lending rates remain near 0%, us consumers are seeing an increase in all of our rates.

Something smells bad...

And I'm not suggesting "in Denmark". Right here at home.

Born in the USA... as a citizen, just wondering... is anybody out there, anybody listening?

The biggest question/criticism I have is directed towards myself. And perhaps this is the other 50% of the financial reform issue being discussed in Washington. Why did I not realize I was being charged these fees by my bank, until now, when they were right there on my statement?

Damn good question!

I check my accounts nearly everyday, online. I peruse my charges and credits. I look for something out of the ordinary, but that can be difficult given the unusual account names that appear on statements. I tend to look at them. Services charges... I do see them, and I often call the bank, and it nothing... like I didn't realize there was a limit to the number of online transfers per month there were. 4 transfers/month is the limit, I think. Go over that and there's a service charge. When this first happened to me, I called the bank and they refunded me, my agreeing I now understood the terms.

The fact is... I didn't see a service charge for my account coming. I trusted my bank. I had online access to my account and received text messages for changes to my account. I never saw one telling the to rate changes, the fact the bank had been sold a third time, that new rates were in effect. All seemed on the up and up.

I was blind-sided. That's not against the law... though it should be.Yeah, I should have noticed the charges, but I didn't. Along with everything else going on right now in our country, this is just one more example of how Wall St. trumps Main St.

THE LONGEST ROAD - Part X - More from BEHIND the MOP

John Miller is sitting at his fictional computer... since he's fictional.

He open's a fictional bottle of beer, lights a fictional joint... and begins to write.

At over age 50 John reflects, all these years he had a sub-conscious fear of becoming a marijuana burn-out. When he began using marijuana around age 20, that was the primal fear of using it - burn-out. 


30 years later, John stopped using marijuana as he got to the age where hanging out with younger people wasn't as easy. By then John realized he was in a new career, a more stressful career... he started drinking more beer. Only, very rarely did he smoke any pot. So, that was now, but he reflected back to what he could remember when his adult life began.

The "Longest Road" was becoming the "Longest Story" he realized. In due part to facing a terrifying reality. Revisiting a story - his life in his early to mid twenties, that held vital significance. Even if it didn't, even if it was simply a personal issue, John felt writing about it was important.

A history from the mid 1970's...

John became the evening custodian at the community college's Fine Arts Center. His shift began at 3PM and ended at 11PM. He lived a block away. He had a room on the 2nd floor of a converted horse-barn. He shared a kitchen and bathroom with five others around his age. They all smoked pot. Anything was available. John preferred just his pot. At the time - $30 an ounce. All varieties, were from other countries. Very little was grown within the US.

By 1975, marijuana was widely acceptable... nearly every party had people passing a joint or smoking a pipe. The more stoned you were the more you tended to get into groups that were discussing interesting topics. The more drunk, the more you'd be playing poker, or out-side getting fresh air.

John knew many students from the campus as well as many staff and professors. Several professors liked to attend the parties, where students also gathered. John was invited to staff parties too... and they were much the same.

What John would like readers to understand is he was a respected member of the college community. He had a ring of keys to every door in the Fine Arts building. He didn't just clean toilets.

What ticked John off... and what he feels he can't get past, is how could getting a dream job such as he did, become the catalyst to what became his self-imposed exile from his family?

In the next post John is going to get back on topic... turn the "Longest Story" into the story it's meant to be.

Expect a change in title...

There is no "Longest Road..." It's a myth.

"JOHN MILLER" INVITES YOU TO A PARTY... <: )

Welcome to John Miller's Fictitious, April Fool's Day party.

The sign at the door says - NO HARD DRUGS ALLOWED!!! 

I've just arrived at the party ...  And a big, muscular gal, big enough to be a bouncer, stands at the door in a pink cocktail dress, holding a lemon. I wasn't sure about - why a lemon?

A brief argument ensues as the couple in front of me brought cigarettes and beer...

"Sorry", the bouncer says... "No hard drugs."

"What?" the guy exclaims!  "Well that's stupid. It's legal in case you didn't know... " He swears and shows obvious signs of alcoholism and instability... obvious he's had a few already, same with his girlfriend who grows visibly impatient..

"There's a bar down the street," the bouncer explains.

She smiled, being friendly, but the guy's girlfriend thought she was winking and flirting. The thought of no beer drove her crazy and she tried to take a swing at Nancy. The lemon juice caught the girlfriend right on target, and in both eyes.

Ouch, ouch! The couple left, swerving away at high speed down the road...

Jerks, I thought. I knew the rules... they were on the invitation. . 

I was let right inside. I gave Nancy a tip... of my hat.

Inside the party the air was thick with reefer smoke, incense, and the smell of good food... chocolate cakes, cookies, and KFC*. Bob Dylan music (and I think I saw him), Tom Petty, Pink Floyd... I ate some... had a cup of tea...

It wasn't long before I was stoned... with about 30 other people... there were a couple of senators, a judge, two off-duty cops, an attorney, several doctors, a couple nurses, a cook, two custodians, several laid-off auto workers, a gypsy, a comedian, a Romulan... then suddenly, it didn't matter anymore...

I sat down at a table with several different people smoking purple starlight from a hookah. They were discussing the hugh DEB raid in Northern California...  after the drug czar ordered all federal troops to swoop in and arrest or kill as many pot smoking, 21st century hippies, they could find. They began with those who held medical marijuana cards...

The DEB had planned this for years... 70 years to be exact... being stoned some parts of the story went harmlessly off - not registering. Some stuff caught my attention, like I got caught up in a discussion  about how this would not only increase the violence and the moral message about how "drugs are bad, but put fear into the populous... it would increase desire for alcohol and tobacco - increased taxes, and result in less stoners.

A Zombie Round-up...

Yeah... okay... I moved on... it is common for such discussions when persons smoke cannabis. And the discussions generally migrate towards peaceable solutions, or frustration that it's a lost cause. Either way, generally, the discussion moves on, to other topics, and later maybe, people get creative.

From there I got up, ate some more, and saw three attractive women sitting on a couch, passing a joint. I walked over, asked, "may I join you?" a couple smiled, then the woman on the right moved over a bit... "sit here", she said. I did...

***

The police did eventually arrive... surrounded the place and threatened to tear-gas the house. Then they got word there was KFC* inside...So they asked Nancy, the big gal with the lemon if they could come in and have some KFC*?

Nancy made sure they had no hard drugs...and made them leave their guns at the coat-room.

The police investigated, using talents that amazed me as they zeroed in on the KFC*...along the way they tested out a few of the other amenities. They ate all the KFC... and left.

It turned out to be a great party... everyone got along.

April Fools !!!

KFC* is my thanks to Comedy Central's, "South Park "  - March 31, 2010...    I laughed my ass off !!!

THE LONGEST ROAD - Part IX - A VIEW from BEHIND the MOP

John Miller had no idea what to expect! He was 21, going on 22.

He'd told his parents about his new job. His father laughed. His mother crumbled - " my son cleaning toilets", she cried, "what is wrong with you? What ARE you thinking?"

Elsewhere he got support... from friends - "that's cool, ya know".

John had worked for 3 years for a discount department store, part of a large chain of stores. His mother pleaded with him to become a store manager. John didn't completely discount the idea, but he really didn't like that place, that work. He didn't know why. The people working there were mostly okay... and he got to flirt and try his wings with a few of the women working there. Older women and those his age... one he actually got up the nerve to date... Angela, he recalled... slender, fit, and hot... and he'd gotten a date with her. A date he knew included sex...

Ironically, he chose the college park after dinner to pull over and make out with her. He was about to get to 2nd base when the police cruiser pulled up beside them, lights going - red lights! Angela had her shirt off - well, almost off. We pulled ourselves together quickly, as the officer knocked on our car window.

John rolled the window down... the officer asked questions, told them they need to leave. They left, and John never saw Angela again. He quit his job and went to work for the community college. How ironic he thought a year or so later. If he'd only gone with Angela in the hundred acre park, he'd have gotten to home. But he lived home then, and when he got the new job, he lived on the edge of the campus. A half a block from the arts building he'd be working at for the following three years. He often walked to the park at night, and not along the road, but through the dark woods.

John's mind was overloaded with information, new experiences, new revelations, knowledge and questions he didn't dare ask. Who could he ask. His father was generally cool and supportive, but he always seemed to hand him off to his mother... yeah, his mother. What happened between mother and son??? John really wanted to know. But it went so far back, and he was free to seek out a new life... for the first time he felt an overwhelming inspiration.

John wanted life! He wanted to be friends with women, and he felt that was taboo, which isn't surprising he often thought given the "general morality" in town, and how strictly his mother bought it. He wanted knowledge, he wanted to write. He wanted to solve mysteries, wanted to find the truth that had been strung in front of his nose his whole life... being told what was right, what was wrong, and there was little flexibility, in his opinion.

The first day on the job at the college his new boss, Frank, asked to see his hands. Nearby was his new co-worker, a man with bad teeth, a jutting lower jaw, but strong, and obviously he had a power of some kind. You could easily see in his dark eyes, the mischief within them. Half Italian, half a direct descendant from Apache Native Americans, Oats, it's what he was called, was a man that didn't take sit from anyone... he was exactly the kind of guy that John probably would not have chosen as a co-worker, had he the choice. Oats saw him as a hair-bag, a guy with longish hair - a hippie. He was right. But Oats turned out to be a better friend, than not. He would turn John upside-down at times. In a good way; though his pranks got John in minor trouble on a few occasions.

Frank, wasn't too impressed with John's hands. "The guy hasn't done a day of work in his life", he scoffed. Oats laughed. Frank handed him a partially cut-open white plastic bleach  bottle, and a toilet swab... "time to learn how to clean toilets", he told him.

And he learned...

After work that night - his shift ended at 11PM, John went home, rolled a joint and took a walk to the Hundred Acre park... mostly river and forest... he didn't go far, he just wanted to get out and walk in the darkness and the lights on campus; then get a feel for what was something he was familiar with during the day... when he'd walk along the paths in the woods. Funny how no matter how alone he was he felt paranoid, like a dozen police cruisers, helicopters would swarm in on him when he least expected it. Never happened... those years of paranoia were a waste. But John had to laugh... he would think, if pot makes a person paranoid, as he was told, then how was it he had a reason to be paranoid?

He'd been raised his whole life to strongly believe marijuana was a dangerous drug... a heinous drug, "the destroyer of youth..." Some destroyer... to John he'd begun to discover himself... and for the first time in John's life he realized he'd found a road that he liked. A road he felt good on.

In the middle of the dark woods John stood... he sparked up his Zippo lighter, and lit the joint. He inhaled deeply, held it in. The woods grew brighter, then darken and started closing in on him. The rush hit him a few seconds later, and the dark woods turned alive. Now he could see in the dark. He pushed back on any fear he felt. He told himself... believed, a dream had come true.

To be continued...