You petty, aggressive assholes.
I signed up for your HBC credit card on a whim a few months ago because A) I’d get double reward points any time I used it, and B) I’d get 20% off all my purchases that day, and as I had a fair bit in my Christmas kitty at the checkout, I figured, hey, why not. Sure, the interest was nearly 30%, but the limit’s $300 and I don’t really plan on using it much, although I do have $275 on it currently. No big deal really, I’ll have that wiped out in a couple of months if I take it easy.
So I’ve been paying minimums on time just fine except at some point I apparently let $11.53 slip. Oops. Whatever, it’s pocket change, not even worth thinking about, I’ll just tack it on to my next payment, easy peasy.
No. No, it isn’t. You want that $11.53. You want it bad. So your collections department starts calling last week. FOUR FUCKING TIMES A DAY. Weekends included. Now, at first neither of us had any idea who the hell you were because the number showed up as some foreign number with an area code neither of us recognized, and since we completely ignore all unknown numbers we let it go the machine, where you brilliantly divined that I had ESP by not leaving a message with a name and number so I could return your call. Repeatedly.
Finally, my wife got sick of the calls and answered. You wouldn’t tell her who you were, what you were calling about, or give her a damn number to give to me so I could call you back. “It’s a personal matter,” is all you said. I work during the day. My wife is the only one home. You keep hours until 11pm so I could easily have called after work – if I knew who the hell was calling. But you refused to say, or tell her what it’s regarding. I finally had to Google the fucking number just to get any information at all, but it turned up conflicting reports; one forum said it was HBC Credit Services; another said it was some scam or another. So I didn’t call back.
Finally your stupid machine left a message with a number to call back. So I did. The machine asked for my account number. No fucking way I’m entering a credit card number over the phone when I can’t be certain I’m really calling HBC Credit and not the phone equivalent of a phishing scam. So I go to HBC Credit’s website. No contact phone numbers for the credit department, just online applications and an E-Mail form that included possible subject choices with everything to do with HBC except HBC Credit Services. Idiots.
So today I go grab my bill and call the number on the back and talk. The guy I spoke to was pleasant and confirmed that these calls were indeed regarding that $11.53. Four fucking times a day, being hassling and being rude and obtusely secretive to my wife for eleven. fucking. dollars.
Fuck you, GE Credit. Fuck you with a fucking Panzer, barrel first. As soon as I pay this shit off I’m cancelling the damn card. I am not putting up with getting endlessly harassed over eleven fucking dollars. I don’t even need the damn card, I just thought it would occasionally come in handy, but as soon as that hand started poking my prostate with press-on nails, you just lost a damn customer.