dispatches from quilt city

Aaaaaaacccccccccccccccccckkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk....(Or, How I Came to Love One of the Largest Financial Institutions in the Country)

So, since Sarah and I have started a budget, I have stopped obsessing about checking our account balances online every fifteen minutes. Unfortunately, today this bit me in the ass to the tune of 120 bucks in overdraft fees. I was none too pleased, and I still haven't figured out what happened accounting wise (though I have taken the precaution of now assuming that we have about 125 bucks less than we do according to the latest B of A statement). Because of the amount and the fact that we don't really have 120 bucks to give the bank, I decided that I should overcome my fear of talking to people and call to see if anything could be done to salvage a generally crappy afternoon. Turns out there was.

I calmly explained myself to the uber-polite Bank of America representative that I thought that I had "overdraft protection" on my account (and, honest to God, I thought I did, I can probably even find the literature about it), and that this should protect me from exactly this eventuality (buying a 3 dollar coffee and getting a 30 dollar fee), by transferring 100 dollars into my account automatically for a five dollar fee. She looked at my accounts, and found that for some odd reason I did not have said protection, but that she would link my accounts from here on out, and would credit me for the 3, 30 dollar fees that were visible on her screen (the last one is still pending, and she said it may not actually show up, but if it did to call.) Thus, as of now I stand only 30 dollars in the hole for my stupid mistake. Though I had thought about changing banks in the near future, I have decided that Bank of America has earned my business for as long as I can find a close-by ATM. I guess it never hurts to ask.

Update: I called today and got the last charge refunded. Woo-hoo!