January 8. Day 192.
Greetings from Hawaii!! It's January 11 as I write -- three days after the fact. These past three days have been... insane. More on that soon. I'll just keep this post short, so we can get to the juicy stuff.
January 9 was moving day, so to pay the first month's rent, I needed a cashier's check. I went to Bank of America, where Mr. A and I opened a joint account when I moved to town, originally to pay for our fun and take advantage of some great promotions (I think we earned about $200 just by opening two accounts and then combining them!). Now we'll use that account for rent as well.
It turns out they have a $6 fee for such checks.
I asked the teller to waive it.
She said no.
I explained that with two banks next door, including one where I'm a customer and checks are free, perhaps it would be smart for them to revise their policy. I'm just sayin'.
Gained: Nothing.
Onward...
Recent Posts
Showing posts with label Bank Fees. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Bank Fees. Show all posts
January 08, 2009
August 19, 2008
An open letter to Wamu regarding overdraft "protection"
August 19. Day 50.
Dear Wamu,
Here is a letter to say thanks for agreeing to cancel my overdraft protection.
As your telephone banker requested (see the last two paragraphs of yesterday's posting), I drove over to your branch and asked for a form so I could opt out of overdraft protection. It took a good twenty minutes in traffic, but what's twenty minutes when the results are greater fiscal efficiency for us both? Hey, I even found parking right out front!
Lucky me, there was no line, so I hopped up to your first available teller and asked her for this magical form.
But wait! What's this? You've say there is no such form? I can't opt out? I misinterpreted what the phone teller told me?
It's not me, it's you?
Wamu, I feel hurt. Emasculated, actually. How else can I feel, when you've taken away my power of decision? Shouldn't using protection be a joint decision, after all?
Your resourceful teller feels bad -- she never meant to hurt me. In fact, she has a solution!
"I can decrease your overdraft limit, from $1,250, but if you overdraw, you'll still have to pay the fee," she incants.
I explain I don't particularly care what my limit is -- make it $0 -- as long as Wamu will never pump funds into a transaction my checking account can't cover and then charge me $33. Basically, I'm not interested in that so-called service anymore.
"Well, you see it's a really more like a fine, not a service. It's meant to punish people for dropping below zero."
Now we're finally connecting. A moment of truth. Your function is to punish me by charging $33, rather than provide a fiduciary service! Thanks, Wamu! And so cheaply, too. Those kinds of "arrangements" usually cost much more on Craigslist.
I haven't overdrawn in more than a year, so this is more a battle of principle. And in principle, I agree that people who don't manage their bank accounts shouldn't be rescued by their banks. But to charge money for a service they don't want, rather than simply not allowing the transaction to go through... below the belt, Wamu.
Perhaps I'll take this up with your corporate headquarters, but more likely, I'll trade up and smile with satisfaction, rather than pity, when I read about your billions of losses on Wall Street.
Sincerely,
La Roxy
Gained: Confirmation of my lingering suspicion that Wamu is an inferior banking institution. Time to find an alternative.
Dear Wamu,
Here is a letter to say thanks for agreeing to cancel my overdraft protection.
As your telephone banker requested (see the last two paragraphs of yesterday's posting), I drove over to your branch and asked for a form so I could opt out of overdraft protection. It took a good twenty minutes in traffic, but what's twenty minutes when the results are greater fiscal efficiency for us both? Hey, I even found parking right out front!
Lucky me, there was no line, so I hopped up to your first available teller and asked her for this magical form.But wait! What's this? You've say there is no such form? I can't opt out? I misinterpreted what the phone teller told me?
It's not me, it's you?
Wamu, I feel hurt. Emasculated, actually. How else can I feel, when you've taken away my power of decision? Shouldn't using protection be a joint decision, after all?
Your resourceful teller feels bad -- she never meant to hurt me. In fact, she has a solution!
"I can decrease your overdraft limit, from $1,250, but if you overdraw, you'll still have to pay the fee," she incants.
I explain I don't particularly care what my limit is -- make it $0 -- as long as Wamu will never pump funds into a transaction my checking account can't cover and then charge me $33. Basically, I'm not interested in that so-called service anymore.
"Well, you see it's a really more like a fine, not a service. It's meant to punish people for dropping below zero."
Now we're finally connecting. A moment of truth. Your function is to punish me by charging $33, rather than provide a fiduciary service! Thanks, Wamu! And so cheaply, too. Those kinds of "arrangements" usually cost much more on Craigslist.
I haven't overdrawn in more than a year, so this is more a battle of principle. And in principle, I agree that people who don't manage their bank accounts shouldn't be rescued by their banks. But to charge money for a service they don't want, rather than simply not allowing the transaction to go through... below the belt, Wamu.
Perhaps I'll take this up with your corporate headquarters, but more likely, I'll trade up and smile with satisfaction, rather than pity, when I read about your billions of losses on Wall Street.
Sincerely,
La Roxy
Gained: Confirmation of my lingering suspicion that Wamu is an inferior banking institution. Time to find an alternative.
August 18, 2008
Reversing the roles: Retailer as asker
August 18. Day 49.
One thing that needs to happen for negotiation to be possible is buyers need to lose the conventional framework that respects the price tag. When I see a listed price, it usually feels strange to bargain. Some things -- ceramics in Tangiers, car insurance for a corporate fleet -- are perceived as more negotiable than others. But toothpaste? a real estate commission? a cell phone contract? -- they're rarely discussed. The way I'm starting to see things, every pricetag is itself a request. "Will you pay x for y?" the merchant asks. And 99.9 percent of the time, buyers say, "Sure!"
A new dry cleaner just opened in place of a defunct flower shop, and after passing by the construction and a big "coming soon sign," I stopped in to ask about prices. A dress costs around $8 or $9. How did they decide that? Based on focus groups, the competition, whatnot. Prices will always be as high as the market will tolerate. But when I heard that specific figure, and contrasted it to so many cheaper cleaners within a mile radius that do an identical job, it made me think about retailers as askers. This new business is essentially asking $8.50 for a dress, proposing a transaction, and people appear to be obliging that request. Business is booming.
But what if we subverted this convention and started making counteroffers for dry cleaning, not to mention big ticket items like commissions? (A new survey found that commissions are rarely negotiated, even though most agents say they would willingly come down a few percentage points.) Sales staff at large, corporate stores might claim they do not have the lattitude, and smaller places might appear like they can't afford to negotiate. But if only we consumers tried. That's all I'm saying.
One more thought. I'm thinking of interviewing some excellent negotiators: a friend in the hotel industry who could talk about getting travel perks, and a woman who chipped 5k off of her new car just by walking off the lot because the asking price (great term) was too expensive. Would you be interested reading their strategies, in their own words? Please drop a comment, if you're so inclined!
Today's request is still in the works. I stopped by a few apartments, and when I find the right one I'll try to talk down the rent based on advice offered here and here, but it's going to be hard in this market. Meanwhile, I must get back to writing this dissertation, or I won't have any job offers to negotiate come spring.
UPDATE: Spurred by congress's smart move a year or so ago to attack overdraft fees -- the arrogantly levied $35 for each time the bank supplies $.14 to people who overdraw their accounts because they got duped by online ledger balances (never trust they're up to date! I've gotten burned that way!), or simply refuse to be embarrassed by having a debit card rejected at the register -- I decided to opt-out of the fees all together. I doubt congress's impulse will become a law in the near future. It's too consumer friendly, and far too logical, to pass under this administration.
So I called my branch, Washington Mutual, to ask if they could toggle that feature off, please. The response: Not on the phone. "We don't have any way of verifying that it's really the account holder on the other end. You can come in and fill out a form in person." Hmmm. I'm not a fan of double standards -- since the bank does let customers apply for home loans over the phone, and if that's not personal, I don't know what is. But let's say I'm feeling generous today, so I'll give them the benefit of the doubt. On the off chance they actually do have my security in mind, and don't just want to make opting out impossibly difficult, I won't rush to condemn them here. I will, however, let you know whether opting out at the branch was easy or not.
Gained: Zip.
One thing that needs to happen for negotiation to be possible is buyers need to lose the conventional framework that respects the price tag. When I see a listed price, it usually feels strange to bargain. Some things -- ceramics in Tangiers, car insurance for a corporate fleet -- are perceived as more negotiable than others. But toothpaste? a real estate commission? a cell phone contract? -- they're rarely discussed. The way I'm starting to see things, every pricetag is itself a request. "Will you pay x for y?" the merchant asks. And 99.9 percent of the time, buyers say, "Sure!"
A new dry cleaner just opened in place of a defunct flower shop, and after passing by the construction and a big "coming soon sign," I stopped in to ask about prices. A dress costs around $8 or $9. How did they decide that? Based on focus groups, the competition, whatnot. Prices will always be as high as the market will tolerate. But when I heard that specific figure, and contrasted it to so many cheaper cleaners within a mile radius that do an identical job, it made me think about retailers as askers. This new business is essentially asking $8.50 for a dress, proposing a transaction, and people appear to be obliging that request. Business is booming.
But what if we subverted this convention and started making counteroffers for dry cleaning, not to mention big ticket items like commissions? (A new survey found that commissions are rarely negotiated, even though most agents say they would willingly come down a few percentage points.) Sales staff at large, corporate stores might claim they do not have the lattitude, and smaller places might appear like they can't afford to negotiate. But if only we consumers tried. That's all I'm saying.
One more thought. I'm thinking of interviewing some excellent negotiators: a friend in the hotel industry who could talk about getting travel perks, and a woman who chipped 5k off of her new car just by walking off the lot because the asking price (great term) was too expensive. Would you be interested reading their strategies, in their own words? Please drop a comment, if you're so inclined!
Today's request is still in the works. I stopped by a few apartments, and when I find the right one I'll try to talk down the rent based on advice offered here and here, but it's going to be hard in this market. Meanwhile, I must get back to writing this dissertation, or I won't have any job offers to negotiate come spring.
UPDATE: Spurred by congress's smart move a year or so ago to attack overdraft fees -- the arrogantly levied $35 for each time the bank supplies $.14 to people who overdraw their accounts because they got duped by online ledger balances (never trust they're up to date! I've gotten burned that way!), or simply refuse to be embarrassed by having a debit card rejected at the register -- I decided to opt-out of the fees all together. I doubt congress's impulse will become a law in the near future. It's too consumer friendly, and far too logical, to pass under this administration.
So I called my branch, Washington Mutual, to ask if they could toggle that feature off, please. The response: Not on the phone. "We don't have any way of verifying that it's really the account holder on the other end. You can come in and fill out a form in person." Hmmm. I'm not a fan of double standards -- since the bank does let customers apply for home loans over the phone, and if that's not personal, I don't know what is. But let's say I'm feeling generous today, so I'll give them the benefit of the doubt. On the off chance they actually do have my security in mind, and don't just want to make opting out impossibly difficult, I won't rush to condemn them here. I will, however, let you know whether opting out at the branch was easy or not.
Gained: Zip.
August 02, 2008
Lower my interest rate?
August 1. Day 32.
And with this posting, gentle readers, the nifty date-to-day correspondence disintegrates.
Every year, I customarily ask for a reduction on my credit card's APR, and every year I get it. Until now. I called US Bank with this routine question for my Visa card, only to learn that my interest rate is "already quite low for a rewards card," but maybe if I check back again in a few months they might lower it. I don't like that qualification -- for a rewards card -- and I don't understand why November might be a better moment than August. But the credit industry's inner workings and public justifications are more obscure to me than any of the literary theory gems I've read in grad school. Or perhaps not, on second thought. Bottom line: They want my money, and there's nothing to stop them from asking for it.
(At the same time, I never carry a balance, so the interest rate is more preventive than necessary. Does that confirm beyond the shadow of any doubt that I'm a virgo?)
(At the same same time, just because they refused my request doesn't mean they won't be amenable to yours. Seriously -- try calling. In a few years, I've dropped mine from 15 percent to 10! Just a friendly tip.)
Gained: Today, nothing. This week, help for a strapped, and trapped, homeseller. Remember that friend of a friend of a friend who's struggling to sell his house in a chaotic Eastern European capital? Well, I asked my agent acquaintance if she'd be willing to work with him, and she said yes!
And with this posting, gentle readers, the nifty date-to-day correspondence disintegrates.
Every year, I customarily ask for a reduction on my credit card's APR, and every year I get it. Until now. I called US Bank with this routine question for my Visa card, only to learn that my interest rate is "already quite low for a rewards card," but maybe if I check back again in a few months they might lower it. I don't like that qualification -- for a rewards card -- and I don't understand why November might be a better moment than August. But the credit industry's inner workings and public justifications are more obscure to me than any of the literary theory gems I've read in grad school. Or perhaps not, on second thought. Bottom line: They want my money, and there's nothing to stop them from asking for it.
(At the same time, I never carry a balance, so the interest rate is more preventive than necessary. Does that confirm beyond the shadow of any doubt that I'm a virgo?)(At the same same time, just because they refused my request doesn't mean they won't be amenable to yours. Seriously -- try calling. In a few years, I've dropped mine from 15 percent to 10! Just a friendly tip.)
Gained: Today, nothing. This week, help for a strapped, and trapped, homeseller. Remember that friend of a friend of a friend who's struggling to sell his house in a chaotic Eastern European capital? Well, I asked my agent acquaintance if she'd be willing to work with him, and she said yes!
