A Little Off the Normal Topic: The Arrogance of Credit Reporting Agencies

In a foul, foul mood. I am doing my federal income taxes, and that does not make me happy. I always stall until almost the last minute and then get caught up trying to find this and that document before the dreaded deadline arrives. Anyhow, I will get around to it . . . I think, I hope, maybe . . . federal prisoners get internet access, don't they? Either way, then, I will still be blogging.

Doing my taxes coincided with the end of a two year battle to get the Big Three Credit Reporting Agencies here in the USA to correct an error on my credit report. First, I had to have an eight-month battle with the state of California, which, thanks to a mistake by the State Department payroll office, had for two years listed me as a resident of California when, in fact, I was a resident of Florida. This happened while I was overseas, and I failed to catch the CA vs. FL mistake. When I returned to the States, I went to live in Virginia, and paid their income and property taxes--which, I would note, ain't cheap. After my forced retirement by the Obamistas, I returned to Florida where I found a letter waiting for me from the California Franchise Tax Board telling me I owed many, many thousands of dollars for NOW some four years of California income taxes. I nearly had an attack of the vapors.

My battle with the CFTB is the stuff of legend. Not even the Norse Sagas can compare! Grendel and her mommy were nothing! Goliath, bah! St. George and his dragon? I laugh heartily! The battle went on for months while I tried to prove to the CFTB that I had not lived in California, had paid taxes in Virginia for two years, and that prior to that I had my home in Florida as my residence, and--Horrors!-- Florida does not have an income tax. The CFTB minions could not understand the concept of a state not having an income tax; they kept asking me for my Florida income tax returns. I sent them property tax receipts, copies of my homestead exemption, my Florida car registration, concealed carry permit, driving license, in-state tuition receipts for my kids' colleges. All went zooming over their heads until I got a very competent California-based CPA who scared them straight. The CFTB relented and sent me a letter saying the tax lien was lifted and, subsequently, sent me another letter saying the lien had been placed in error.

A tax lien is a terrible thing to have on your credit report. My credit score went from flying with the angels to digging with the earthworms. Ever tried to get one of three big credit agencies to correct an entry? Horrors await you. Transunion and Equifax were relatively easy; it took me only four to six months to get them to correct the entry in my credit report.

Dealing with Experian, however, was a Kafkaesque nightmare. Months of writing letters, sending emails, going to their website, only to be referred to their phone number which no human would answer, just a recording referring me back to their website. The sales pitch was amazing. I had to subscribe to their service before they would even deign to examine my credit report. I had to have a credit report file number which, they said, I could only get by becoming a subscriber.

I did my research and found that they were lying. The internet is full of websites dedicated to Experian and its highhandedness. I, fortunately, found on one such site, a phone number which Experian does not publicize. After much insistence and shouting "Agent! Agent!" I got a very rude human whose first question was, "Where did you get this phone number?" She tried to refer me back to the website which I refused to allow. She eventually gave me a PO Box in Allen, Texas to which I should send all my "evidence." She told me exactly what the letter should contain. I did as told, providing the exact book and page numbers in the Sacramento County Registrar office where the CFTM acknowledged that the lien was in error. I even sent copies of the letters from the CFTB. Five weeks later I got back one of the stupidest, most poorly written letters I ever have received. The crack investigators at Experian had "determined" that the letter I had sent, at their request, mind you, had not been sent by me; they declined to proceed any further and closed my case, letting the erroneous information stand.

Folks, I spent nearly 35 years in bureaucracy. I know what a letter like that means. It means, it's almost five o'clock on a Friday, and I can't be bothered to look into some complaint from a guy in Florida who is not even a subscriber to our service. I contacted the Federal Trade Commission (FTC) where a nice but clueless young man told me that the FTC had lots of complaints about Experian, and that I should send my "story" to the FTC. The FTC would not, however, do anything; they were just collecting statistical data. Right. I am going to waste my time doing that.

I called the Secret Bat Number at Experian, again, and had an even tougher time this go round getting somebody to talk to me. I demanded to know how their investigators had determined that the letter I had sent at Experian's request, with all the information and supporting evidence requested by Experian, had, in fact, not been sent by me. The rather rude woman on the other end of the line, said it was because, "You used a third party company in your effort to repair your credit score." My reply was, "You are making that up. There was no third party company, and you know it." She tried, once again, to sell me a subscription to their service. I refused and said, "You are costing me the ability to buy a house. You fix this, or I will file a lawsuit." I did not know at the time that, apparently, if you say you are trying to buy something and an erroneous credit score is preventing that, they have to act, including giving you a file number. She took all my information, trying repeatedly to get me to send it all again to the address in Allen, Texas--I refused--and warning me, "We can't correct something just because you say so." I kept my temper, gave her all the information on the Sacramento County Recorder, and had to listen to her tell me it would take 45 to 60 days for them to get back to me.

Two weeks later, I got an email deleting the lien info and restoring my score to its former stratospheric heights. The whole thing left me with a very bad taste in my mouth, and an unease over how we have allowed remote, arrogant, and, above all, anonymous bureaucrats, whether in government or large corporations, to have so much power over our lives.

OK, OK. Therapy session is over, I feel better now. Back to politics . . .