As both of you may or may not be aware, I have been in a fairly pitched battle with National City over my house. Yes, I’m one of the lucky ones you hear about on the news who lost their job (and basically everything else) and has been struggling to keep my home.
I won’t recap all the details, they are posted variously throughout this blog if you feel the need to be fully enlightened, but suffice it to say that National City haven’t exactly gone out of their way to play nice. Back in May, after playing Don’t Call Us, We’ll Call You (and, no, not the song by Sugarloaf) with them through the month of April, I had finally managed to talk to a real person who explained to me the steps I would need to take to get things back under control. So, I sent them the required information and waited.
And waited.
And waited some more.
Three weeks on I received a nice letter from National City’s lawyer, a woman called Jennifer, who absolutely could barely contain her unmitigated enthusiasm for the opportunity to sue me blind and have me thrown into the street and who was quite thrilled to be seeing me burn in court.
At the end of May I called National City again. This time it was in response to someone who had cunningly crept up to my front door, placed a tag on my door knob, crept back to their running vehicle parked outside of my house, photographed my house from the secrecy of their vehicle (in broad daylight) and slowly drove away – all as I watched them from the giant five foot by seven foot window overlooking my front porch. The tag was a notice to call National City immediately. So I called, only to be told that I was behind in my mortgage and that if I intended to keep my property I would need to contact Loss Mitigation.
It felt like I was being run in a circle.
I contacted Loss Mitigation – again – and was told it would be approximately 6 to 8 weeks for them to look over my information and decide how to modify my loan. In the meantime, their lawyer would continue with the foreclosure proceedings. But I needn’t worry: if the house were to go be put up for foreclosure auction, National City would try to expedite the modification.
Try.
How very thoughtful.
At the end of eight weeks, after another ‘clandestine’ visit to my front door with a little tag, I called again, to be told that it would be approximately 8 to 12 weeks before they could get round to looking at the paperwork, but thanks for the call and the continued interest in settling this matter. And, by the way, the legal team are quite excited to see you struggle and bleed. Have a great day.
Two weeks later I received a letter in the mail from the courts explaining that I am allowed the opportunity to sit down with my lender and work out a loan modification, just sign on the line—just here—and we’ll get this taken care of just as soon as you pop this back in the post. Funny, I thought that’s what all the loan modification paperwork I faxed in May was for…
Two week after that, I received a sizeable packet from Jennifer which laid out all the evil things I have done in the past seven years of home ownership – i.e. having missed two payments – and how I had better send in my answer to her complaint a.s.a.p. or she would see to it that I was crucified in a public centre as a warning to all current and future generations of homeowners not to ever fuck with National City.
I sent in my answer, filing it with the clerk of the courts in person – and oh what a joy-filled experience that little fieldtrip was. After I returned home, I called National City again in response to yet another tag on my door knob. The polite woman told me that I was behind on my mortgage and if I wanted to keep my home, I had better pay up right quick because the foreclosure was already in the works. I asked if I might speak with someone in Loss Mitigation. Once there, I was informed that it would probably be about 12 to 16 weeks before someone would be able to get round to going over the information I had submitted – you did submit your information, didn’t you? – but in the meantime National City would be pursing their rights against the property in the form of a foreclosure.
Oh. Really?
I exploded. I came absolutely un-fucking-glued. I was asked not to keep raising my voice. I told the English-As-A-Second-Language fuck that I had done everything that had been asked of me and yet, rather than see anything happen, I was taking a savage boning. I explained that I was through with the mental duress and the bullshit and wanted something done, considering we had be playing this singularly unfun game for almost five months.
And then I slammed the phone down.
A week later, in early August, I got a very nice booklet of my on-going evilness from young Jennifer along with her letter to the courts demanding that I be tried and found guilty and be flung thoughtlessly into the filth because I had not submitted an answer to her previous packet.
Two days after that, a packet was sent to me through FedEx. It was the long-awaited Loan Modification agreement. I had to sign and have witnessed and notarised three separate copies and return two copies to National City within 7 days or the modified loan would be void.
I had everything finished and back to FedEx the next day.
That afternoon I received another love note from Jennifer in the form of something called a Request for Summary Judgement.
One week after that I received a notice from the Court that the meeting with National City would take place on Friday, 11 September 2009 at 4pm and we would put this whole silly business behind us.
I called the National City Mortgage Help Line, the number for which was provided in my Loan Modification paperwork (you know, if I had any questions, like why was I only given 7 days to respond to something that took National City 16 fucking weeks to figure out) and was told by the friendly recorded voice that someone would return my call in 24 to 48 hours.
72 hours later, I called the number again and left another message, even though they specifically ask you not to leave a duplicate message because it just delays the whole process of them figuring out how to pick up a telephone and call you back in a timely sort of manner.
48 hours after that, I got my return call. The man to whom I spoke voiced confusion as to why I would have to go to court to settle this matter: the Loan Modification was finished. I enquired of him as to whether or not National City had bothered to notify National City that National City had worked out the mortgage issue and so there was no need for National City to continue to pursue a legal case against me. He was not sure, but he could call me back within 24 to 48 hours with an answer.
I gnashed my teeth and kindly told him, ‘No. Thanks. Really.’
He assured me, though, that National City would be behind me, backing me up all the way if I had to go to court against National City.
I hung up.
And I drank some scotch. A nice smoky single malt.
That was a week ago.
Tonight, Wednesday night, when I returned home from my evening class, I found yet another letter from young Jennifer. It seems she has had second thoughts and has decided to beg the court’s forgiveness and asked to cancel both the legal battle and the meeting on 11 September as it appears the foreclosure has been withdrawn and a modified loan agreed to and because, it seems, I am not the vile Hell-spawn she once believed I was.
Last week I had told Sloan Gay that I could not work Friday night – that I absolutely had to be off work by 3pm – because of my pending court date. He stared at the blank schedule with his typical sad disdain, as if I had placed the entire weight of the world quite squarely upon his drooping shoulders, and he sighed heavily.
Somehow, I don’t think I will be able to find the time in the next 24 to 48 hours to tell him that court has been cancelled. Besides, there is still quite a lot of scotch left which needs tending to…