In November of 2004, we refinanced, and got an awesome interest rate and a lovely low monthly payment. From January of 2005 up until November 2005, that bill would arrive and I would pay it. We were really pleased with this particular bank, and planned to be loyal customers forever.

A strange thing happened in December 2005. The bill arrived and it was almost three hundred dollars higher than it was supposed to be. I am the stupidest person in the universe when it comes to anything having to do with numbers, so I assumed that I’d screwed up somewhere earlier and that this bill was my punishment. The next one would be back to normal, I was sure.

The January 2006 bill was also almost three hundred dollars higher than it was supposed to be. So was the February bill, and the March, and the April. I started wondering if maybe it wasn’t me, this time. So I contacted my mortgage arranger, who is also my best friend. (Remember Janice, the Menopausal Loan Officer? She’s awesome, and if any of you are in the market for a mortgage, please call her. She’s absolutely wonderful, and she will work for you as nobody else ever has or will in all your lives. You can reach her at: 812-275-1995, ext. 115. ) She was horrified, both at the bank and at me for letting it go on for so long. She went through all the paperwork and contracts and weird stuff having to do with banks and interest and loans and variable rates and fixed rates and other foreign words and idioms, and concluded that it was, indeed, the bank. It wasn’t me, this time. Whoa. We’ve got contracts and documentation and all kinds of creepy-looking legal-size paperwork. With signatures.

The problem is, convincing the bank that this is their fault. We began calling, and entered Voicemail Hell.

After many tries, Janice finally reached a human voice at this bank. Unfortunately, the human voice had a really strong and strange accent, almost as though she was in another country many thousands of miles away, and was very difficult to understand. Even with me sitting right by her side, Miss Accent let us know in no uncertain terms that any bidness concerning my loan had to be arranged in writing beforehand. Fortunately, Janice had, among other things, a fax machine in her back seat. She hooked that baby up, and we began composing the permission slip request.

Folks, Janice doesn’t even work for that same mortgage company any more, and she is still doing all this work for me. I’m telling you, she’s the best loan officer EVER. Call her.

I’m hoping that tomorrow, Miss Accent will have received my signed form and will then allow us to ask some questions. And that I will get some answers, and they’d better be good answers.

Because if I don’t get some really good answers, and some serious freebies, out of this fiasco, I’m going to post the name of the bank and all details thereof, on this blog for the world to see, so nobody else will give them any bidness, ever, ever again. And then I’ll go over to Planet Feedback and do the same. I’ve got names, and dates, and details, and I’ll make them all public.

Businesses, do not mess with bloggers. Even if you win, you’ll lose.

You can’t buy the kind of positive publicity a blogger can give you. And you can’t even begin to estimate the amount of business you will lose, if a blogger posts about a negative experience concerning your business.

This ain’t no mommy post tonight, and I’m really pissed.

I mean, I still love them and all, but right now, it’s all about the benjamins, baby.