The credit noose

Have you tried to cancel a credit card lately?

I was on my way out for an evening run the other night, when I did a quick scan of my 'to-do list'. It always gives me a sense of satisfaction to put a line through items on such lists, no matter how minuscule. Sort of like an 'I've earnt my beer tonight, look at what I've achieved today' scenario. To my annoyance, there was one item at the bottom not actioned – a cancellation of a credit card. A card with a little bit of history.

So I cooled my running shoes while I rang them. It seemed easy enough. I had a credit card with nothing on it that I want to cancel. I had no income, and thought it best not to have the card any more. I'd read that all lenders had fallen into line with tighter credit policies. I thought I'd be out the door in no time.

What followed were three minutes and eleven seconds of voice prompts, then:

“Good evening, –––––– Cards customer service centre, Jemima (pseudonym) speaking.”
“Ah yes, my name's Daniel Lewis and–”
“Oh, good evening, Mr Lewis, how are you today?”
“Good, thanks.”
“Good, good. That's great. Now, how can I help you today, Mr Lewis?”
“I'm wanting to cancel my credit card.”
“Oh... congratulations.”
“Sorry?”
“You've obviously won Tattslotto.”
A more bellicose person would have asked to speak to the manager there and then.
“No, I haven't. I just want to cancel my card. That's all.”
“Well, I'm sincerely sorry to hear that”.
Lady, it's after five, either you're on late shift or you're in the right job.
“Can I ask your reasons?”
What if I said 'No, you can't', would that put an end to this?
“Um... I don't want or need the card any more. And I quit my job a few months back so I have no real income at the moment.”
“Oh. Are you in employment?”
Is she serious?
“No, as I just said, I'm in between jobs. A career change as such. And I'm not sure when I'll have regular money coming in again. I'm living on savings, and have learnt from past mistakes with credit cards. I don't want it any more, that's why I'm ringing today, to cancel it.”
I can't be any clearer, can I?
“Okay, Mr Lewis, I understand, I really do. I will have to put you through to another person to finalise your request.”
I knew this was coming, so I bit my lip. I also knew where it was going: to her supervisor, or to the Collections team leader. Without debt their jobs are on the line. Jemima announced her colleague, Dionne (pseudonym) would assist from here, and put me through.
“Mr Lewis?”
A new voice on the phone, a little clearer, even more upbeat. It took her a good minute to get through her greeting. Then she asked how I was.
“I'm good. I'm just–“
And if I was having a good day.
“Yes.”
“Now, my colleague has informed me that you wish to close your account with us.”
“That's correct.”
“And can I ask your reasons?”
These people are good. Strange combination: it feels like they've been amped up during these tough times, although, surely, they haven't been given an equivalent pay increase. Corporates just don't work like that, especially not now.
“I already explained my reasons to your colleague. I don't need or want the card anymore.”
Maybe Mr Bellicose is coming to play after all.“I'm sorry to hear that.”
“Your colleague said that as well.”
“You have been with us since 2004–”
“Yeah, well I–”
“And you have an excellent payment history. We regard you highly–”
Let's cut the crap. You've made money off me in the past. That's why you regard me highly, although I'm sure you personally don't, or should I say, shouldn't, give a shit. I'll give it to the big wigs here, they have some of the very best syrup drummed into their employees' heads.
“I'm not working at the moment. I'm doing the responsible thing here. You guys would be crazy to want to keep my business.”
“Are you in employment?”
Am I speaking effing English?
“No.”
“Well, I know $170 is $170, but for that small annual fee you get the luxury of having this $5,000 for a rainy day.”
She almost had me cornered here: I almost asked about the possibility of waiving the next annual fee. I held my nerve. They knew that I only took on this card as they were offering low interest debt consolidations, back in the day when all lenders were doing it, trying to snare their piece of the debt pie. I had never purchased anything on it, only hacked away, ever so gradually, at the balance. If they started waiving the annual fee – which was, after all, the real bee in my bonnet here – then they'd make nothing off me. So it was back to the verbal tennis, I was about to unleash the Nadal backhand.
“Listen, I've been on the phone for nearly ten minutes now and all I want to do is cancel this card. I have another credit card with my bank and that is all I need...(top notch pre-empting here) and, no, I'm not getting into discussions as to what their rates are. Your annual fee is too high, which I know is the same for most cards, but you charged me a $40 late fee for being one day late a while back. I have learnt from my mistakes. I think if more Australians started cancelling their cards and just living with what is actually theirs, we'd be much better off (enter inspirational background music). I know it doesn't augur well for your profits but I don't particularly care, either.”
Exhale.
“Okay, Mr Lewis, I understand. I've de-activated your card”.
She sighed. It sounded like she'd heard this rant before.
“Thank you.”
“But I do I need to read you a disclosure statement, which includes the option of re-activating your card within the next six months... All cards are required to be cut up and destroyed–“
“Already done.”
“And any remaining balances are to be paid in full before account can be fully closed.”
Huh?
“I've already paid the close-out amount.”
“Yes, Mr Lewis, it's all part of the disclosure statement. I'm legally required to read it out.”
She went on. I barely listened. And then...
“One last thing, Mr Lewis.”
“What's that?”
“There is a $7 credit on your card.”
sighSighSIGH... where's the initiative from earlier, lady?
“That's your fault. I rang a while back for a final amount, including all interest, and the man gave me the wrong figure. Just write it off.”
“You don't want us to–”
“Please. Just write it off.”
“Okay, Mr Lewis. Thank you for your business, and hope we'll see you again in the future.”
Not likely.

Afterwards, I got to thinking: is the credit noose tightening, or is it as loose as ever? Back in the earlier days of the millennium, if it wasn't the low interest deals, it was the letters in the mail advising of pre-approved card with limits that equated to a third of my salary.

Unfortunately, there was a time when I was blinded by the snazzy logos and the promise of getting my house in order. The 'inspired' joint ventures between big banks' analysis and marketing teams ensnared myself and so many others, steamrolling low-to-middle income earners for the sake of sustaining market share. (And who could write about lenders without mentioning the Antichrist – no points for guessing who they are – and their crippling interest rates for those with nowhere else to go. Where is the government legislation here?)

The fact that it takes ten minutes of verbal tug-of-war for someone with next-to-no income to do the responsible thing and get a credit card cancelled says those days are still a long way from diminishing.

No, the noose is still loose.