There are few things as fun in life as f*cking up your credit. Every trip to the mall is like a cocaine-induced episode of Supermarket Sweep—shoes, lipstick, potato clock. Whatever you can grab with your greedy fiend paws. Hurry, before someone tells you it's not free. Spending money you don't have is an injection of adrenaline, a transfusion of tiger's blood, and like every epic party, eventually the lights come on and you're hungry, tired, and surrounded by a bunch of empty beer cans. Advertisem*nt Advertisem*nt
These were my tasks:
It was a simple list, and I knew it would take all day. To motivate myself, I'd decided that after each success, my guests and I would be awarded a treat; the first contestant to complete three tasks would win the best prize $10 at Party City could buy. I started with AT&T and found that it was actually very easy to get ahold of someone there when you are offering to pay them money they assumed they'd never see. Having already checked the first thing off my list, I turned on RuPaul's Drag Race and stepped outside for a victory bowl.This is when Barbara Gray, one of my best friends and partners in crime, arrived wearing a floor-length sequined gown that showed she meant business.
Barbara set up shop under a "Congrats!" balloon, and got to work on her own list of tasks. We both found ourselves on hold with our respective elusive institutions as an apocalypse-themed episode of Drag Race played out on the television above us. The robot on the phone told me, for 46 minutes straight, that my call would be answered in approximately five minutes. On Drag Race, the "Lip-Sync for Your Life" challenge song was "Toxic," so I hoped this mindless waiting would continue indefinitely, but alas, my call was answered. Advertisem*nt Advertisem*nt
My sister Marlena arrived, looking fabulous in an unworn Betsey Johnson of her own. I poured her some champagne, threw an iPad at her, and told her to "start fixing sh*t.""I don't have anything to fix," she protested, and she was right. There is a point at which one can have so much to fix that they have nothing to fix at all."You're just giving up then?"She nodded happily. I should have known from her leopard-print platforms and shawl that she was just here for the champagne and Drag Race. I met Marlena halfway: "Fine. Get high with me while I wait on hold."
After spending an inordinate amount of time on hold with Wells Fargo, I got through to someone who told me that I needed to call a different number. This was enough of a win to commemorate with cake.Just then, Barbara had a realization. "I fixed three things!" Indeed, she had paid her largest outstanding item, called her bank, and paid this month's student loan. I bestowed upon her the day's biggest honor: a Coors Light baseball cap that had a bottle opener built into the brim. This was the first and only time that Marlena expressed any regret that she had given up.With the party in full swing, Barbara and I both attempted to log into our annualcreditreport.com accounts to dispute the charges that we had already disputed with the various companies. The site had no "back" button or login, and each time we tried to get back into the site, we had to answer a complicated list of security questions. When we tried to get into the reports we had just opened, a message came up saying that, for privacy reasons, we were not allowed access to our own information… unless we were willing to pay. Advertisem*nt
We each gleefully bludgeoned the giant hundred-dollar bill, but no matter how hard we swung, none of us were able to conquer big money. Finally, Barbara knocked it to the ground, and we took turns attempting to demolish it. Wailing on the bill was a cathartic experience. We were people, and it was just a thing. We were bigger than it, stronger than it, and we unleashed years of financial frustration on that pathetic, destroyable piece of cardboard until we'd slashed it open and its candy insides trickled out. Barbara noticed two "first place" ribbons that I had stuffed in it."So we all get one?"I looked at my sister. "Well, not all of us."Marlena shrugged and poured more champagne. Barbara, the victor of the day, went home with her ribbon, her Coors Light hat, and, as a party favor, her finances in order.Marlena stayed (who else was going to smoke and watch Drag Race with me?) while I called Wells Fargo again. When I finally got ahold of the right person, she told me that my request had to come via fax. Yes. Fax. I asked her several times "Who faxes?" and then wrote the following note before drafting, with one eye open, what would be my faxed request: Credit buruea dispute resultion name addy dob phone number synopsize what I told you. Advertisem*nt
The operator at Transunion, a man named Desmond, was also outsourced. I spent ten minutes explaining about how the car I'd had through Wells Fargo had been totaled.There was silence on the other end of the line."Hello?!" I demanded, turning more and more into a sloppy version of Liza Minnelli with each sip of champagne."What is the total?" Desmond asked."Do you know what that means? Total? When a car gets totaled?""You wish to make a dispute?" Desmond guessed."Yes. Because my car was totaled. And my insurance was… Do you know what insurance is?""You wish to make a dispute?" he repeated."Yes. I'm, but I'm telling you my dispute. See, insurance is a company you pay, Desmond, and they… pay for your car if you have an accident. My car was damaged. The repair cost was more than the car, and they didn't pay Wells Fargo on time, but it wasn't my fault.""You wish…"I sputtered. "Yes, just do the thing. Put in the thing that I'm making a dispute. Fine. Whatever."And with that drunken, defeated resignation, I had officially taken agency in my own life and done everything within my power to fix my credit. It was time for the fete's final reward, a perfect way to cap off a day of excessively imbibing mind-altering substances: Marlena and I would detonate a firework we had recently purchased at a gas station in New Mexico.
Marlena left, thrilled with her goodie bag, despite the fact that she had earned none of it. In, a way, I think she ultimately won the day: She drank the champagne, smoked the pot, and enjoyed all the fruits without burdening herself with any of the labor. I should have at least given her an honorable mention.I realized I'd spent eight hours doing tedious research and on painfully absurd phone calls on Credit Fixing Day, and it was one of the best Mondays I've ever had. I may not have control over the credit reporting system, or their unfair practices, or even my own ability to control my impulses, but I'll be damned if anyone's going to stop me from having fun while dealing with that sobering reality. This party was such a delight that I would ruin my credit all over again in a heartbeat. Some people look at bad credit as a character flaw, but the way I see it, in the words of the great RuPaul, "Even when I was down, I treated myself like a star and waited for the rest of the world to catch up."Follow Tess Barker on Twitter.
