Bank of America called this morning. I ran to answer the phone when I saw their number pop up on the caller ID. For some crazy reason, I thought maybe they’d magically approved us for the making homes affordable program.
Apparently motherhood makes you totally delusional.
Debra Poindexter (yup, that’s what she said her name was), called to sell me a B of A insurance policy for my home appliances. Sure, she didn’t have a huge chance considering all the appliances in my home are about 20 years old, but the fact that she was selling for B of A killed any chance at all.
Midway through her pitch, I interrupted and said, ‘B of A holds my home mortgage. Considering the horrid level of customer service I’ve had for the past 4 years, there’s a better chance of… well… there’s a better chance of pretty much everything happening before I bought a policy from you folks. Don’t take it personally, but you work for a miserable company.’
‘But have a wonderful day. I really wish you personally the best. We won’t go into what I wish for B of A’ I said.
Then she hung up on me.
What?!? I was being nice!