05.28.08
Strange Mail
My mother has been dead for three years, yet today, in my mailbox, there was a notice sent to her. Since I was her Durable Power of Attorney, in life, I took the chance of opening it without fear of breaking the federal mandate not to tamper with someone else’s mail.
On her behalf, I learned that the bank, once again, is changing its name. I also found out that they are going to (try to) continue to treat their customers well and enhance the overall banking experience. The letter was signed by the president of the bank, someone whose name I could not say … or spell … if my life depended on it.
This piece of mail left me with an odd feeling and I could not help but ponder the fact that when one is six feet under, stocks, mutual funds, and bank accounts matter little. Money will not buy a person even one more minute more than what has been pre-determined in the Book of Life.
I poignantly recall the fact that when Mother had her heart attack, she had all of $16.00 left in a checking account, her only money, and had gone through all of her other assets, without anyone knowing. She had also run up a credit card bill of thousands of dollars, just to buy simple things like food and medication.
While she was in and out of hospitals and nursing homes, I sat here, like a dummy, explaining over and over again to paid collection agency officials that the credit card bill would be paid immediately, as soon as her farm sold. The creditor had to wait awhile, but the day of the “closing” was the same day their pay-off check went into the mail. In the meantime, I was badgered. I said, “Hey! I pay my bills!” Nobody was listening.
You see, that is the trouble. No one at all is listening. You can tell your woes to an answering machine until the cows come home. Perhaps a cow is the animal getting the message, and not making sense of it. Don’t get me going!
There is a lot wrong with corporate America, including the fact that J.C. Penney, whom I mentioned last month, is still under the impression that I have an account there. I do not. I never will. Last Saturday, I received a form to fill out for their investigation> into why I don’t think I should pay the charges. Simply put, I said, “This card is NOT mine.” Are they dense?
This is too much. Letters to dead people. Bills that I didn’t run up on accounts that I don’t own. We won’t even dwell on the number of Paypal scam letters I receive per week, and I DO report every one of them. One can’t even die to get away from junk mail. My Dad received an advertisement for life insurance twenty years after he’d been gone. I should have framed it! Can you top that?
Patricia Cummings
