It all began with a discovery. That I, Mugen the careless didn't pay attention to my credit card's billing statement. It took me a week to realize that I was way past the due date, and that, a heavy penalty was already forthcoming.
I paid the full amount the next day and called the credit card's customer service hotline to report my delinquency. At first, I said that I'm planning to cease using the card. Terminate it. But when they hit back and told me that I still have to settle the P600 interest, I toned down my rhetoric and begged for clemency instead.
"Kasi, I went to the province last Holy Week." I explained. "I only saw the bill yesterday."
It was a creative ruse.
"Baka naman puwede niyo i-reconsider. Kasi pag hindi na-retract yung penalty, ang babayaran ko next month ay interest lang." I pleaded.
"After all, I am a long-time and good-paying customer."
"I understand sir. Your request has been forwarded to our collections department" The agent said. "Let's hope they listen to your appeal."
"Sana nga."
"Is that all sir?"
"Yes."
The phone call ended.
The phone call ended.
It took them four days to reply. I called the same hotline twice before I got an answer. And when the agent delivered the outcome, their decision was a disappointment.
"I'm sorry sir but your appeal was rejected."
"Ganun?" My hand was squeezing the phone's headset. "Hindi ba masyadong unfair na mas mababa pa sa singkwenta pesos yung utang ko, tapos ang interest eh six hundred pesos?"
"I'm sorry sir, but that's our card's policy." The agent's response was cold. Almost unsympathetic. "If you want, we can conduct a further investigation, this time involving the person who delivered your bill."
My head was screaming. I can't believe the credit card company would waste that much time and resources for a P600 profit. To a fault, I thought it was pathetic. I'm not that desperate to fight over something that's been my fault in the first place.
But I know how to hit where it really hurts.
But I know how to hit where it really hurts.
"Okay. Please write this down." I calmly said. As an officer who requires to know something about customer service work, I'm certain that the agent handling the call is required to take notes, especially in escalation cases like the one he's about to face.
"Tell the one who reviewed my appeal that his decision was a big mistake." I said. "I will cut this card, as well as my Visa."
"I can't believe that this is the price of my loyalty."
Three weeks had passed before the new billing statements from the credit card company came. The first thing I did was pay the five pesos balance, for me to be able to cancel my Visa. It was a sweet vengeance I tell you, especially when the escalation officer called. She tried to bargain - convince me to change my mind by way of scrapping my membership due.
"Revoke the penalty on my Mastercard and I'll keep my Visa." I commanded.
"I'm really sorry sir, but my superior said it can't be done."
"Well then, goodbye." I said, smiling. "It was fun doing business with you."
With the Visa gone, the next thing I did was to return to the bank a few days later and pay for my Mastercard. Seven hundred pesos. That's enough cash to dine my mom in a restaurant, or have a movie date with Baabaa. And it will all go to waste simply because some wise corporate drone thought he'd get rewarded for bringing money to Metrobank.
Unfortunately, he forgot. Long-term earnings rest on the customer who uses the card.
"Hello Metrobank, my name is Mugen. Here is my account number."
"What can I do for you Mr. Mugen?"
"I'd like to know if my payment yesterday has already appeared on my balance?"
"Yes. You have zero balance left."
"So wala na akong utang sa inyo?"
"Wala na po."
"Very well, I'm terminating my card."
I'm sure, the person on the other end of the line was caught unprepared. After all, most people call to ask their balance so they maybe able to purchase more items on credit. Once again, my concern was escalated.
This time, my mind is set. There is no turning back.
I used to think credit cards define status; so people would know that you are rich, and that you have been privileged to spend without using cash. It was Metrobank who first placed their trust; my first credit card was Visa. I bought gifts for loved ones. Slept well at night, knowing I have emergency funds. Went to opulent places without stuffing my wallet with cumbersome cash. It even guaranteed my online acquisitions as Paypal uses the card as monetary substitute.
I could have kept one for sentimental reasons. But with a P600 penalty charge and a feeling of betrayal clouding my judgement, I decided to cut both.
I do not know if the message got across, or whether the inconsiderate bastard would ever find out the outcome of his decision; of how we tend to lose more because of our short-term vision.
As for me, the dissolution of two cards meant a permanent cash-flow problem resolution. Credit purchases will significantly lessen. I will be forced to spend within my means. In the long run, the absence may turn out more beneficial than what I have foreseen. For instead of my earnings being eaten by bill payments, whatever money I receive will now go directly to the bank.
At long last, I will have my savings back.
"Revoke the penalty on my Mastercard and I'll keep my Visa." I commanded.
"I'm really sorry sir, but my superior said it can't be done."
"Well then, goodbye." I said, smiling. "It was fun doing business with you."
With the Visa gone, the next thing I did was to return to the bank a few days later and pay for my Mastercard. Seven hundred pesos. That's enough cash to dine my mom in a restaurant, or have a movie date with Baabaa. And it will all go to waste simply because some wise corporate drone thought he'd get rewarded for bringing money to Metrobank.
Unfortunately, he forgot. Long-term earnings rest on the customer who uses the card.
"Hello Metrobank, my name is Mugen. Here is my account number."
"What can I do for you Mr. Mugen?"
"I'd like to know if my payment yesterday has already appeared on my balance?"
"Yes. You have zero balance left."
"So wala na akong utang sa inyo?"
"Wala na po."
"Very well, I'm terminating my card."
I'm sure, the person on the other end of the line was caught unprepared. After all, most people call to ask their balance so they maybe able to purchase more items on credit. Once again, my concern was escalated.
This time, my mind is set. There is no turning back.
I used to think credit cards define status; so people would know that you are rich, and that you have been privileged to spend without using cash. It was Metrobank who first placed their trust; my first credit card was Visa. I bought gifts for loved ones. Slept well at night, knowing I have emergency funds. Went to opulent places without stuffing my wallet with cumbersome cash. It even guaranteed my online acquisitions as Paypal uses the card as monetary substitute.
I could have kept one for sentimental reasons. But with a P600 penalty charge and a feeling of betrayal clouding my judgement, I decided to cut both.
I do not know if the message got across, or whether the inconsiderate bastard would ever find out the outcome of his decision; of how we tend to lose more because of our short-term vision.
As for me, the dissolution of two cards meant a permanent cash-flow problem resolution. Credit purchases will significantly lessen. I will be forced to spend within my means. In the long run, the absence may turn out more beneficial than what I have foreseen. For instead of my earnings being eaten by bill payments, whatever money I receive will now go directly to the bank.
At long last, I will have my savings back.