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By Joe Fries
Bank fees are like death by 1,000 cuts, a torture dreamed up by some evil financial genius who consorted with an equally evil marketing professional in a plot to rob us of our hard-earned cash without us knowing it.
The cuts – I mean fees – are so small you barely notice them until you check your statement online one morning when you’re in an especially cantankerous mood and decide enough’s enough.
That’s when I decided I wasn’t going to take it anymore.
I still remember The Call. A woman with a smooth, happy Caribbean accent phoned to tell me about BalanceProtector insurance for my Visa. She made it sound great: If I was ever to become sick or disabled and unable to make my interest payments, the white knights at the insurance company would ride in and cover the tab for me until I was well enough to open my wallet.
Better yet, such peace of mind could be had for the unbelievably low price of just 89 cents for every $100 I put on my card, calculated monthly, then subtracted from the days in the Mayan calendar and multiplied by Planck’s constant.
I immediately agreed that my life was incomplete without BalanceProtector.
Each month I saw the little charge, but never thought about how it added up. Until Tuesday, that is.
Let me tell you a little secret. I got my first credit card when I was about 21. I was positively giddy at the thought of being able to open a real, live bar tab. Which I did. Many times.
The card was useful for about six months, after which point it was racked to the max and of no more use. I never made the interest payments and eventually paid if off using a student loan, which led to other issues – namely not being able to afford text books – but that’s a whole other story.
It wasn’t until about five years later when I finally grovelled with the bank to get a new card, which is a necessity in today’s world of online bookings. Since I’ve been re-credited, I’ve been very careful to use the card wisely. I never let a balance, even a small one, sit on the card for more than two weeks.
Which makes BalanceProtector sort of unnecessary, and which I realized when I saw that $2.51 levy on my latest statement. That adds up!
I knew I was in for a battle when I phoned to cancel and the automated attendant offered an option just for people wishing to cancel.
So, my enemy will be a specialist, I thought.
However, she sounded pleasant enough at the outset while taking me through the usual security questions:
-Name?
-Date of birth?
-What did you have for breakfast?
-What’s the square root of pi?
I heard her flip open the Big Book of Customer Beat-downs when I told her I wished to opt out.
“You realize we’ll pay your balance if you get get hit by a meteor?”
- “Yes.”
“You realize it only costs 89 cents per month, less than a can of beer?”
- “Yup.”
“OK. Do you have any outstanding claims?”
- “No, thankfully. If opting out is this painful, I shudder to think how painful it would be to actually extract money from your outfit.”
“Do you have life insurance?”
- “Look,” I snapped, “it’s none of your business. Just cancel it.”
“OK,” she replied. “Your confirmation number is: 1-4-6-1-8-6-5-Niner-Gamma-Bravo-6.”
Victory at last!
I felt great, and I hope the feelings lasts, because if I get sick and can’t pay my credit card bill I don’t think BalanceProtector will have my back.
Take that evil geniuses.
joe@kelowna.com
250-575-4303
