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Many years ago I was temping in a bank's lost and stolen credit card division. The division was going to be absorbed into a central customer service center, so they weren't hiring and were using temps until the merge.
I took calls and filled out the online report. We also entered the paper reports filled out by the night crew when the system was updating, but mostly it was taking calls from unhappy credit card users. This call, though, was just sad for me.
A man called in one morning to report that he had lost his credit card. But it was odd. He didn't sound upset, almost bouncy happy in fact. As I check the account information it turns out that it is his wife's account (all accounts are only held by one person, any second card is simply a courtesy and the main cardholder is ultimately financially resposible). The alarm starts ringing in my head. The guy lives in a small town, an area where most of the men are going to be employed during the day doing outdoor jobs. Why is he calling me from home? He sounds young and healthy. Why is he making the report instead of his wife? The card is nearly maxed, even with two incomes. Maybe this sounds flimsy, but you learn the signs.
Instead of putting the report through, I filled out one of the paper reports, told the man that I had the information and we would get this taken care of right away.
Then I called his wife's number at work. She worked for a bank, but not this one. She was able to come to the phone right away, and I told her about the report from her husband. She started crying, right there on the phone. I sat there, feeling bad, hoping she wasn't in front of customers, and wondering what the heck was going on. The story then poured out.
She and her husband had been married for less than a year. Within two months of the wedding, her husband had been injured at work. He was out so long (long before FMLA) that he ended up losing his job. Since then, he sat at home and was hooked on the shopping channels. She was the only income and he would not look for work. The card was not lost; she had taken it away from him and destroyed it; he was trying to score a new card for his addiction.
By the time she was done, I was ready to cry with her. You could tell just how defeated and tired she felt. I took her information, then told her I would talk to my supervisor and get back to her.
I went to my supervisor, an incredibly awesome man, I really wish I could have stayed and worked for him. After listening to the sad tale, he told me the bank could split the account. They would create two individual accounts, one for the wife, one for the husband. They would evenly split the balance and credit limit on the account. He turned in the paperwork and I went to call the wife back.
I told her the decision my supervisor had made and she was so happy, I think it was the first time she had smiled in months. It felt so good to help her out.
After I got off the phone, my only downer thought was that I hoped she would divorce the guy before she got pregnant.
I took calls and filled out the online report. We also entered the paper reports filled out by the night crew when the system was updating, but mostly it was taking calls from unhappy credit card users. This call, though, was just sad for me.
A man called in one morning to report that he had lost his credit card. But it was odd. He didn't sound upset, almost bouncy happy in fact. As I check the account information it turns out that it is his wife's account (all accounts are only held by one person, any second card is simply a courtesy and the main cardholder is ultimately financially resposible). The alarm starts ringing in my head. The guy lives in a small town, an area where most of the men are going to be employed during the day doing outdoor jobs. Why is he calling me from home? He sounds young and healthy. Why is he making the report instead of his wife? The card is nearly maxed, even with two incomes. Maybe this sounds flimsy, but you learn the signs.
Instead of putting the report through, I filled out one of the paper reports, told the man that I had the information and we would get this taken care of right away.
Then I called his wife's number at work. She worked for a bank, but not this one. She was able to come to the phone right away, and I told her about the report from her husband. She started crying, right there on the phone. I sat there, feeling bad, hoping she wasn't in front of customers, and wondering what the heck was going on. The story then poured out.
She and her husband had been married for less than a year. Within two months of the wedding, her husband had been injured at work. He was out so long (long before FMLA) that he ended up losing his job. Since then, he sat at home and was hooked on the shopping channels. She was the only income and he would not look for work. The card was not lost; she had taken it away from him and destroyed it; he was trying to score a new card for his addiction.
By the time she was done, I was ready to cry with her. You could tell just how defeated and tired she felt. I took her information, then told her I would talk to my supervisor and get back to her.
I went to my supervisor, an incredibly awesome man, I really wish I could have stayed and worked for him. After listening to the sad tale, he told me the bank could split the account. They would create two individual accounts, one for the wife, one for the husband. They would evenly split the balance and credit limit on the account. He turned in the paperwork and I went to call the wife back.
I told her the decision my supervisor had made and she was so happy, I think it was the first time she had smiled in months. It felt so good to help her out.
After I got off the phone, my only downer thought was that I hoped she would divorce the guy before she got pregnant.
(all sarcasm intended).
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