Masters of the Card – The Letter Goeth

To Whom it May Concern,

It’s funny.

I’m not a big credit-card supporter. I’ve gotten into more debt trouble with those things than in any other way (my own fault, admittedly). Unfortunately, I also know having at least one is necessary in our credit-crazed society, and I understand that along with a credit card comes the inevitable marketing, the up-selling of “balance protection”, random “cheques” arriving at my house, and a periodic bombardment of calls about the company’s “service”.

Notice I’ve put those terms in quotes, because none of them are real. “Balance protection” isn’t really an accurate description – “taking small amounts of money monthly from suckers” would be more to the point but probably doesn’t fit well into brochures. The “cheques” I get are an attempt to get me to treat my card as cash, which is possibly the worst mistake a human can make, aside from taking the blue pill rather than the red pill if you get offered it in a the-world-is-not-real type of scenario. Similarly, the concept of “service” at most credit card companies bears more resemblance to kicking small puppies than helping mankind…but I digress.

I had a Capital One MasterCard. You don’t need the card number, since I’ve cancelled it, but I’m writing this letter on principle, and good old Canadian grit. This MasterCard was serviceable. It did the job I needed it to do. It had a nice low credit limit, and was something I could fall back on in times of need or hardship. I didn’t even carry it in my wallet – it got to hang out in the top drawer of my dresser, my underpants keeping it secure. But then, one day, after years of steadfast non-service, I received an innocuous looking letter in the mail.

This letter stated that to “benefit me”, my card would be changing to a fee-per-year model. The only way to prevent this from happening was to call your company and cancel the card. If I had done nothing, not received the letter or thrown it away unopened, I would have suddenly been on the hook for a yearly $30 hit. I probably should have seen this coming. Had I bothered to read my credit card agreement in detail, I’m sure it would have shown that you have the ability to start such a fee plan, in addition using my likeness for advertising purposes and renting out my house to a band of travelling carnival workers.

I should have known better, should have been smarter, but that doesn’t make it right, doesn’t
make it honorable. As strange as this may seem in the corporate world, the customer is actually what drives business. No, really. We’re the ones who pay the interest and use the cards that keep you in business. You’ve not “doing us a favor” by granting us the boon of your credit cards. We’re keeping you afloat.

So here’s what I’m suggesting in the future – a phone call. I know, I know. It’s a shocker. Try this out next time, and I’d imagine that the results will be better. First, call the client whose card you’re going to suddenly change for the worse. Ask him if he wants to keep the card. Write down “oh dear God one thousand times no”, which will be his response to your question. Move on to the next call. This will save both parties time, money, and aggravation.

Let me be perfectly clear. Credit cards are a necessary evil, one that I can bear to live with under typical conditions. But a company that operates on the premise that I will either be too lazy or too stupid to cancel my card in the event of an upcoming, unavoidable fee raise represents its own special brand of suck.

This letter is for all Canadians, quietly brooding over their credit card’s poor service as they drink their double-double, silently cursing at the owner of the car parked too close to theirs, before asking them to politely move. These are my Canadian brothers, fuming inside but unable to let any anger escape, save for a small steam-powered stream of polite deferrals and passive-aggressive deflections.

No more, brothers, sisters! This letter is for you. So enjoy my response-letter to your letter. A counter-response form letter is anticipated. I’m sure it will serve me better.

Sincerely,

Letter Sent: 12:30pm Mar 27, 2010

Masters of the Card, They Ain't

Even here in Canada, we have credit cards.

Oh sure, we use them for hockey bats and curling nets, but we've got them.

And we hate them, just like Americans.

Well – scratch that – I suppose we have a love/hate relationship with them. They allow us to buy things we could never normally afford, and probably shouldn't ever buy. They're great at the beginning of the month, and horrible at the end (insert terrible female-related joke here).

But we all have them. And frankly, I was willing to deal with their ridiculous interest rates and ever-increasing limits, combined with their fun card names. A "platypus emerald executive-class card"? Sign me up!

I could even live with the "cheques" they would periodically send, which inherently assumed I was stupid enough to believe that credit card money was "real" money.

Seriously. I could live with all of that. I'm a patient man.

But then it happened. A nice, plain-white letter from Capital One MasterCard arrived. I've had a MasterCard with them for, oh, four or five years now, at least. I didn't use it for much, always keep it paid off, etc. It was nice to have around if I needed it and – here's the important part – it had no yearly fee.

So, this letter arrives and I open it, expecting more cheques to shred. But oh no. Instead, I have a letter which states that if I don't respond by such-and-such a day, my card will automatically become a fee-per-year card.

Say what now?

So if I do nothing, just leave things as they are, I will suddenly start being charged money? I have to contact them directly to prevent them from automatically taking money from my wallet and shoving it into their greedy maw?

Oh, and the best part? It was to "serve me better". Yeah, I totally buy that. If there's one industry known for its charity and dedication to service, its the credit industry. For sure.

So, needless to say, I did call. There was a chat, mostly involving yours truly informing the good people at MasterCard that Canadians don't respond well to threats or ultimatums. I'd have threatened them in return with a peacekeeping mission, but I doubt Canada has the numbers to entirely surround the MasterCard head office.

The card got cancelled, and the day was won.

But then I got to thinking. Who else have they done this to, that either didn't call or didn't notice, and is now getting charged a fee? Who else have they crushed under the plastic-coated, number-encrusted boot heel of their oppression?

Frankly, I have no idea, but its time for another letter.