thejunipertree (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
thejunipertree) wrote2007-11-30 12:40 am
thejunipertree) wrote2007-11-30 12:40 am
CAPITOL ONE CAN SUCK IT
See, here's the deal:
Last week, I made an online payment to my Capitol One credit card in the amount of $300. I had been late on my last payment, so their collection agents had been lighting up my cell phone every goddamn day, but I wasn't answering because I knew what it was about, I was just waiting to get paid so I could make a payment to them. So, I make the payment online last week on the 21st. Great, right? God bless the internet.
Two days later, I get another phonecall on my cell phone from the number I had identified as CO's collection department and I decide to answer it this time and let them know that I made a payment and then can leave me alone now.
The stuttery little fool on the other end of the phone, Roger, looks up my account and tells me that something went wrong with the payment and that it's not registering. He sees that I made a different payment to a seperate CO card I have (I have two, one Visa and one Mastercard, don't ask, it was an accident), but the big payment isn't showing. So, he recommends that I do a check-by-phone and get this all cleared up.
I ask Roger, several times, if this has the potential to result in a double payment and he insists that it absolutely will not.
Well.
I was online tonight, taking my Sociology exams and when I was finished, I had a wee voice in my brain telling me to check my bank account and see how much money I had in it. LO AND FUCKING BEHOLD, there are TWO charges to my account in the amount of $300 to CO.
HUH, I WONDER HOW THAT HAPPENED, ROGER? IF THAT IS ACTUALLY YOUR NAME, YOU NUMB FUCK.
So, I call customer service and speak to a very nice girl who sounded vaguely Indian who tells me she is very sorry this happened, that they'll fix everything, but I have to speak to an account manager. I am then put on hold for an hour. In this hour, I eat a giant oatmeal chocolate-chip cookie the size of my head, drink a glass of milk with ice, smoke three cigarettes, coast around online aimlessly, and lose all feeling in my right ear from holding the phone to it. Also, I have developed an unnatural hatred of holiday music (which I already kind of loathed) because of what they play for customers on hold.
Finally, I get Alison, the account manager, who is one nasty cooze. She tells me that I need to contact my bank and have them reverse the charge themselves. And that if I want CO to do it, it will take up to 15 days to be processed and I'll have to have it in the form of a physical check and omg the seas will run red with blood if I make them do it.
Ok, I say. Fine. I just want my goddamn money back; I don't care who gives it to me.
I then call my bank, which is a wonderful institution with a 24-hour, 7 days a week, customer service line. The very nice lady, who's name I forgot to get, listens to my story and pulls up my account. She tells me that she's putting in a request for dispute and that tomorrow, I have to go into a branch location and sign an authorization.
How long will it take to get my money?
15 days, most likely.
>:O
Tomorrow, I'm going to call the collection department's phone number and jump straight up their ass about ROGER THAT WIBBLING DOGDICK who can't do his job right. And I have his employee ID written down in a notebook at work. It most likely won't do any good and they'll just tell me all the same bullshit, but at least I can bust out with my Professor McGonagall voice that strikes fear into the hearts of grown men. I WILL REPRESENT, BITCHES.
After all of this is said and done, I'm going to work on completely paying those cards off and then shut them down. Fuck Capitol One and everyone who looks like them.
Last week, I made an online payment to my Capitol One credit card in the amount of $300. I had been late on my last payment, so their collection agents had been lighting up my cell phone every goddamn day, but I wasn't answering because I knew what it was about, I was just waiting to get paid so I could make a payment to them. So, I make the payment online last week on the 21st. Great, right? God bless the internet.
Two days later, I get another phonecall on my cell phone from the number I had identified as CO's collection department and I decide to answer it this time and let them know that I made a payment and then can leave me alone now.
The stuttery little fool on the other end of the phone, Roger, looks up my account and tells me that something went wrong with the payment and that it's not registering. He sees that I made a different payment to a seperate CO card I have (I have two, one Visa and one Mastercard, don't ask, it was an accident), but the big payment isn't showing. So, he recommends that I do a check-by-phone and get this all cleared up.
I ask Roger, several times, if this has the potential to result in a double payment and he insists that it absolutely will not.
Well.
I was online tonight, taking my Sociology exams and when I was finished, I had a wee voice in my brain telling me to check my bank account and see how much money I had in it. LO AND FUCKING BEHOLD, there are TWO charges to my account in the amount of $300 to CO.
HUH, I WONDER HOW THAT HAPPENED, ROGER? IF THAT IS ACTUALLY YOUR NAME, YOU NUMB FUCK.
So, I call customer service and speak to a very nice girl who sounded vaguely Indian who tells me she is very sorry this happened, that they'll fix everything, but I have to speak to an account manager. I am then put on hold for an hour. In this hour, I eat a giant oatmeal chocolate-chip cookie the size of my head, drink a glass of milk with ice, smoke three cigarettes, coast around online aimlessly, and lose all feeling in my right ear from holding the phone to it. Also, I have developed an unnatural hatred of holiday music (which I already kind of loathed) because of what they play for customers on hold.
Finally, I get Alison, the account manager, who is one nasty cooze. She tells me that I need to contact my bank and have them reverse the charge themselves. And that if I want CO to do it, it will take up to 15 days to be processed and I'll have to have it in the form of a physical check and omg the seas will run red with blood if I make them do it.
Ok, I say. Fine. I just want my goddamn money back; I don't care who gives it to me.
I then call my bank, which is a wonderful institution with a 24-hour, 7 days a week, customer service line. The very nice lady, who's name I forgot to get, listens to my story and pulls up my account. She tells me that she's putting in a request for dispute and that tomorrow, I have to go into a branch location and sign an authorization.
How long will it take to get my money?
15 days, most likely.
>:O
Tomorrow, I'm going to call the collection department's phone number and jump straight up their ass about ROGER THAT WIBBLING DOGDICK who can't do his job right. And I have his employee ID written down in a notebook at work. It most likely won't do any good and they'll just tell me all the same bullshit, but at least I can bust out with my Professor McGonagall voice that strikes fear into the hearts of grown men. I WILL REPRESENT, BITCHES.
After all of this is said and done, I'm going to work on completely paying those cards off and then shut them down. Fuck Capitol One and everyone who looks like them.
BAHAHA "WIBBLING DOGDICK"
NEVER TRUST A COLLECTION AGENT.
EVER.
NO REALLY, N.E.V.E.R.
NOT A SINGLE WORD.
Re: BAHAHA "WIBBLING DOGDICK"
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Lets find Rodger and burn his face off with a soldering iron.
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If I gave someone an $11,000 check, I'd be freaking out every single night, wondering if it was sitting in some drawer somewhere, scared and alone.
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So over the lifetime of my card, I've had £1200 penalties. Which will result in a claim of...
£3,200ish with interest.
And I will WIN. I did the same thing with the bank.
no subject
as an aside, i loled my ass off at the flashing shark icon and OMG THE SEAS WILL RUN RED WITH BLOOD.
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Capitol One, or How I Hate Those Fuckers
When I finally paid that fucker off I cut it up into a million pieces and mailed it back to them with a suggestion that they die painfully. Every once in a while they'll send me an invitation to get another one of their products, and I take all the friendly sales bullshit, write across it in sharpy NOT IF YOU WERE THE LAST FINANCIAL INSTITUTION LEFT ALIVE AFTER THE ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE AND OUR UNION WERE OUR LAST HOPE OF REPOPULATING A DEVASTATED RACE and mail it back to them in their own pre-paid envelope.