Overcoming Bad Credit: Communication is Key.

Oct 18, 2015 | 6 comments

At the beginning of the month, I posted about my experience with bad credit. I expected mixed results but the response was overwhelmingly favorable, and many of you thanked me for my transparency.

Truth be told, I didn’t share everything. Let’s face it: finances are a really private matter. I mean, it’s not like any of us are going to put our bank books on public display, right?

Open Wallet

Open Wallet

And why would you? Your life dynamics are just as personal as your wallet. Are you hearing me?

Every situation is different.

So why do the credit companies treat us all the same?

The reasons for my bad credit aren’t the same as yours or your mailman’s brother’s cousin’s dog’s groomer. That’s okay. Neither are the solutions.

Let’s recap, shall we?

  • I am not a credit expert. I am not, have never been, and have no plans to be: A professional debt collector, credit counselor, financial adviser, or life coach.
  • I have experienced unemployment, car accidents, medical bills, single parenting, and poverty.
  • I did not crawl into a corner and stay there. Okay. Yes. I did crawl in. It was ugly. But I didn’t ~ repeat, I did not ~ stay there.

I am slowly and surely finding my way out of my debt and bad credit situation, and as vulnerable as that makes me feel, I’m here to share [parts of] my story with you.

Today’s theme is Communicate.

Use your words, people!

Use your words, people!

That’s it. Use your words, people! But here’s the thing: Are you putting emphasis on the right word? If I say, “Use your words, people!” what do you hear? Me telling you just to talk. But if I say, “Use your words, people!” it changes, doesn’t it? Now it’s about you and your words. About expressing your situation.

This gem of advice was given to me a few years ago but it wasn’t until this year that I realized the power behind it. And it happened by mistake. Or grand design. I’m not sure which.

One particular evening I was ignoring the many Caller Unknown phone calls. In a moment of silence, I reached to make a call of my own, but as things happen, I picked up a call just as it came in. You know the feeling. Do you hang up? Stay quiet so they hang up? What? What? WHAT??

Being the conscientious authentic tired person that I was, I took the call. It was one of my credit card companies. I know. I’m late. Again. Still. My favorite part (not!) is when they ask, “What is the reason for the delinquency?” I really want to rant. Rave. Rebel. Instead, on this call, I politely said, “You know, you asked me that last month and the answer hasn’t changed. I simply don’t make enough money any more.”

So you know what they did? They laughed. They turned me over to a debt collector. They offered to work with me on an income-based payment plan.

Tired Girl say what??

That WAS easy!

That WAS easy!

We took a few minutes to review some information. How much do I make? How big is my family? And then, those magic words: We can work with you.

I was so excited, I answered the next call. And the next. Soon, I had arrangements made for several bills. You know what? The phone stopped ringing as much. The nasty-grams slowed down. And the bills are getting paid.

No, it’s not easy. And it’s not simple. I have to make sure I’m on top of my budget and there are times when I can’t make even the minimal payment so I get to swallow my pride, pick up the phone, and ask for more help. But I do it, because it’s worth it.

I don’t want to default or file bankruptcy. I want to pay my own debts. And when I own up to my financial mess, when I let others know the what’s and why’s and how’s of my situation, they’re more willing to work with me.

These posts started the day after I took another call to try to reduce a bill. In my mind, I had created a monster of debt, and I was ashamed and certain that I should just do a George Bailey and jump off the nearest bridge. Instead, I talked to the woman on the other end of the phone.

In the end, I was in tears.

I explained my situation, again. But this was a new company. This debt was transferred to a new collections department. How humiliating.

Except it wasn’t. Because she spoke to me like I was human, an individual. Not like a number or statistic or deadbeat. She valued me.

We all have value.

We all have value.

And then she said something I’ll not forget.

“You don’t know me, and I don’t know you. But I’ve been in your situation. I have. And I’m going to tell you, hang in there. Okay? It gets better. It does. I promise you. It gets better.”

And that’s why I cried. Because I allowed myself the vulnerability of showing my human-ness to a stranger, and she gave it back to me.

There was no condemnation, no threats, no hardlining. Just a person, talking to a person, working things out.

So I’m here to tell you

It gets better. It does. I promise you. It gets better.

Here’s a few simple tips to help you recover your finances:

  • Answer the phone.
  • Talk to people.
  • Be honest about your situation, what you can (and can’t) afford.
  • Don’t make promises you can’t keep.
  • Try. Try again.
  • If the person isn’t willing to work with you, talk to a supervisor. It won’t always help, but most of the time, it will.
  • Follow up. If you make a promise to pay, pay. If you say you’ll call back, call back. They like it when you’re truthful.

What else can I tell you? You have value. I believe in you. And you know what?

It gets better. It does. I promise you. It gets better.

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And Frankly, My Dear . . . that’s all she wrote!

Sweeten my tea and share:

Do You Mean It?

Jan 7, 2013 | 2 comments

It’s funny how sometimes I get an idea for a post but am not always sure how to write it out clearly. When those moments happen, I often write a note and keep it nearby on my writing table. Or I just let it shift around in my head, mixing with other words and experiences until, like a snowball rolling downhill, it picks up the momentum it needs from its surroundings and ends up larger than life.

This is that sort of post. For nearly a week, I’ve been struck with how often the World around us asks, “How are you?” But it wasn’t until today that someone really stopped to hear my answer.

We are so often prepared for the “I’m fine,” that when we ask the question we don’t expect an honest answer. And because it’s never expected, we never answer when it’s asked of us.

It’s a standard conversation.

“How are you?”
“I’m fine; thanks for asking.”

But how often is it authentic?

There are so many people who have so much to say. Who just need someone to talk to, to listen. What a person portrays on the outside is rarely what’s going on on the inside.

Wouldn’t it be marvelous if every time someone asked you, “How are you?” they really wanted to know? And if you offered the trite response, they’d push just a little to let you know they’re sincere?

My friend Wendy did just that for me today. Certainly, I hint about life’s downside here on the Blog. But I don’t really let you go there: into that Room where I keep my deep dark scarred secrets, the parts of me that cry out in fear and loneliness and anger and confusion.

I would love to scream it into my keyboard. But that’s not really me. And it does a disservice to expose myself in such a way. Discretion is always the greater part of valor, but that doesn’t mean we should lock ourselves away from the World, or hide or true selves from it. Still, it’s hard to open up about the real stuff. Even when others express their care.

Unfortunately, there’s a time and a place for everything, and we’re taught at an early age that the standard Q&A is, only, “How are you?” and “I’m fine.” The End.

Societal boundaries tell us crying in public isn’t always welcome. But neither is jumping for joy. We’re subdued into letting those critical moments pass us by: those moments that can make the difference between saying, “I’m fine,” and meaning, “I’m fine!”

BoundariesI’ve chosen to stretch those boundaries. I choose to look someone in the eye, and wait for the answer. Just like Wendy, who looks. And waits. And asks again. “How are you, really?” with no presumption over a pat or trite answer. She asks for truth, and expects it. And lets me get away with nothing less.

I want to be like Wendy. And so I’m asking. And waiting. And listening. I’ve found that listening to others takes my own focus off myself and gives me a different perspective.There is nothing so terrible that I can’t get through it. No joy so private it isn’t made better by telling those closest to me. And when I listen, I learn more about others. About humanity. About what makes the World Go ‘Round. The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly.

My college roommate posted this on her Facebook wall tonight ~

If we all threw our problems in a pile and saw everyone else’s, we’d grab ours back.

How true is that? We think we’re unique. And we are. But problems aren’t. Struggles aren’t. Even joys and excitements aren’t.

It’s okay to share our life with those around us. As long as we let them share theirs.

And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!

Sweeten my tea and share: