my mother taught me to write letters
In the summer of 2009 I was dealing with my separation from the Air Force, my apparent unemployability, Angelbiscuit’s multi-month absence, and (unknowingly) entering my fourth consecutive year of declining mental health. On top of everything, I’d bought a house approximately 20 minutes before the market collapsed, and now was trying to make payments to JPMorgan Chase (may the fat melt from [their] miserable bones!) on an income of… let me do the math here: nothing into nothin’, carry the nothin’…
I had been principally banking with USAA since the mid-aughts, but retained my membership with the University of Kentucky Federal Credit Union (UKFCU) because it was something my mother’d taught me: ‘credit unions good’. Yet, compared with the (still) fantabulous customer service of USAA, the staff at the UKFCU were lacking. I called them in the summer of 2009, hoping to secure some assistance with my situation, and the representative whose name I’ve redacted compelled me to write the following letter.
Apparently I got through to someone because I received the cheque as I’d stated. However, I continued to receive correspondence from the credit union. I figured they must have misunderstood me, so I wrote them again.