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Sometimes I feel sorry for the folks who handle my student loans.

I get two phone calls, minimum, every single day, from a certain ginormous corporation that specializes in student loans, especially since I took my “sick leave” from CBU.

I recently (as in, 10 minutes ago) answered the phone, and as I was not  feeling charitable enough to even discuss a payment plan, had the following exchange:

 

Her:  “Would you like to do a forbearance on your loan for the time being?  It will be [amount of money I don't have, and won't for quite a number of weeks] for the number of loans you have, currently.”

Me:  “Well, I’m going to be frank with you.  Right now, I have no intention of giving you guys any money, even if I had it.  Would you like me to tell you why?”

Her:  “Well, ma’am, technically that’s a default…”

Me:  “Oh, I’m all kinds of aware of that, and I couldn’t give less of a shit, if you’ll pardon my language.  You see, I’m taking medication that makes me feel like I have the flu, except it’s supposed to do that, and it’s supposed to make me better, because after 16 years of not knowing what the hell was wrong with me, I finally have an answer, and so I’ve spent the day throwing up because of this wonderful medication that is, despite the side effects, doing what it’s supposed to do.  I care more about THAT than owing the equivalent of a 30-year mortgage on a mansion, do you understand?”

Her:  “I’m not really sure what you’re talking about, but, um, we can discuss payment options…”

Me:  “I just told you.  I’m not giving y’all any money right now.  I have something called Lyme disease.   You can look it up, later.  L-Y-M-E.  Part of it involves my immune system doing stupid things like gluing my internal organs together for shits and giggles.  If I cough too hard, I could give birth to my colon…as in, traditionally, through my freakin’ vagina.  Alternately, I could poop and find my uterus in the toilet.  Sounds fun, right?  And I have to pay for surgery for that to not happen, and while I happen to have insurance, it’s tenuous, and I still have to find money so that I don’t die in the midst of all of this vomiting and careful coughing and tick-borne madness I’m currently experiencing.  Until THAT is resolved and paid for with the money I DO have, and I am able to find gainful employment, y’all need to stop calling me, because you’re wasting your time, you’re wasting my time, and I don’t give a fuck about my credit.”

Her:  “…Um?”

Me:  “I’m very sorry to have taken out my frustrations on you, as I know you just work there, but I’m hanging up, now.  You can write whatever you want on your report.  I’m going back to sleep.  Happy Monday.”

 

Obviously I exaggerated, but for fuck’s sake.  They have records.  They know I dropped to half-time, and they were notified that I was taking a medical leave of absence from school.  Get it together, you anal derbies.

And clearly, herxing is as pleasant as using a cactus as a dildo.  So, you know, I genuinely am sorry that poor girl had to be the one to call me, today.  Maybe I’ll get one day without phone calls, though.  That’d be nice.

Yes, that would be mighty fine.

2 comments to Sometimes I feel sorry for the folks who handle my student loans.

  • If it makes you feel better, I do a similar thing to bill collectors, and I don’t even have a good excuse like yours.

    [phone rings]

    “Hello?”

    “Hi, this is Shit-Sucking Debt Acquisitions Company from Hauppage, New York. We’d like to speak to Erin Palette in vaguely threatening tones.” [Editor's note: some dialog changed to reflect what I heard, rather than what was actually said.]

    “Ah, Shit-Suckers. I should have known it was you from your preceding fecal halitosis.”

    “Yes, you really should have. At any rate, we want you to pay us, oh, $700 for a debt that was charged off four years ago, which we bought for pennies on the dollar in the hopes that we could extort money from you with threats, when clearly the original amount wasn’t important enough for your old creditor to pursue.”

    “I see.”

    “So, you’ll be paying us all at once with a credit card, yes?”

    “Not at all, Shit-Suckers. I find your attempts at extortion to be laughable, and thus I mock you. Ha hah.”

    [there is a brief pause at the other end]

    “Um… well, you realize that if you do not pay us, we will be forced to take action against you which will adversely affect your credit rating.”

    “What you fail to comprehend about this situation is that I don’t give a flying fuck about my credit rating.” [Note: I actually said this line.]

    “….”

    “I see that my remarkable candor has rendered you speechless. Allow me to continue. You see, since this debt is under a thousand dollars, I know it’s not worth the time and effort of an attorney to collect, because his services would cost more than you’d get from me. Therefore, I know you can’t sue me, and thus you’re a paper tiger.”

    “But…”

    “Furthermore, seeing as how I live with my parents, have no sustainable income, and have no possessions worth taking — including my car, which is over 10 years old and has over 130,000 miles on it — you can’t put a lien on my salary or seize anything of value.”

    “If I could…”

    “Therefore, I am calling your bluff, you anal remoras, and invite you to spend additional time and money on form letters and telephone calls which will only earn you further contempt and increasingly polysyllabic verbiage, you cretinous decerebrates.”

    “What..?”

    “Insalubrious regards, my fine young catamite.”

    [hang up]

    • My debt is actually large enough that they’d be willing to spend the time and money litigating, but, um…you can’t squeeze blood from a stone, and if you try too hard, YOU’RE the ones that’s gonna bleed. I really do want to pay back this debt – I got it to better my life, and shit just hit the fan. When I’m better, I want to make an effort to make good on promises…and a loan is a promise…but I just…yeah, I can’t, right now.

      The next person who got a hold of me (I was half-asleep) asked if I was going to try to get on disability. I said, “for this disease? I’d have to shove a knife in my own spine and call it an accident before they’d even talk to me.” Gross (and very sad), but true.