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i don't exist i don't exist i don't exist
Mar. 12th, 2010 01:12 pmI've never been to hell and back quite so quickly as at the bank this morning.
We went in to find out how much we could be pre-approved for in our plan to get a home mortgage, and after waiting for half an hour for someone to finish talking about some business or other, and presented all our tax information and pay records one by one as the mortgages man stabbed them all into a mouldy calculator and wrote out diagrams and sums while talking about things like "investor percentages". Everything was going very well until the end of the interview, when he thought to ask what our credit scores were - and not having had a social security number when we were setting up our accounts, I had never got a credit card of my own and had just been added to Whitney's account. So no score was on record for me.
He instantly recognized this as a giant problem in the way of getting a mortgage, and apologetically came up with the absurd method of getting any department store credit account, buying a pair of socks or something, paying that off and then just letting it sit in a drawer, therefore generating a record at some point over the next year. Never mind that I've had several bank accounts in good standing in Scotland since I was 14, or earn the majority of the money that goes into paying the bills that have contributed to our good credit score - as far as the system's concerned, if I don't have a number I don't exist, and it's the way that America works in keeping with the way it's treated me for the last three and a half years.
But when we got home, as you could say, a miracle happen - we went on to one of those free credit report sites and entered my name and the number that I had on my JetBlue card (which is a different number from Whitney's), and - as Whitney's dad told us - I have a score and a record after all, because a law was passed at some point that says that spouses with shared credit and bank accounts must both be given separate credit scores for them.
So we sent those pages to the mortgages man, he checked them over, and I'm now looking at a virtual letter promising that the bank trusts us with the repayment of $more money than I've ever seen in my life at a rate just above our current rent. And to the owner of the tree I may have grievously damaged on the walk back from the bank - sorry about that.
PS. My credit score's better than Whitney's.
We went in to find out how much we could be pre-approved for in our plan to get a home mortgage, and after waiting for half an hour for someone to finish talking about some business or other, and presented all our tax information and pay records one by one as the mortgages man stabbed them all into a mouldy calculator and wrote out diagrams and sums while talking about things like "investor percentages". Everything was going very well until the end of the interview, when he thought to ask what our credit scores were - and not having had a social security number when we were setting up our accounts, I had never got a credit card of my own and had just been added to Whitney's account. So no score was on record for me.
He instantly recognized this as a giant problem in the way of getting a mortgage, and apologetically came up with the absurd method of getting any department store credit account, buying a pair of socks or something, paying that off and then just letting it sit in a drawer, therefore generating a record at some point over the next year. Never mind that I've had several bank accounts in good standing in Scotland since I was 14, or earn the majority of the money that goes into paying the bills that have contributed to our good credit score - as far as the system's concerned, if I don't have a number I don't exist, and it's the way that America works in keeping with the way it's treated me for the last three and a half years.
But when we got home, as you could say, a miracle happen - we went on to one of those free credit report sites and entered my name and the number that I had on my JetBlue card (which is a different number from Whitney's), and - as Whitney's dad told us - I have a score and a record after all, because a law was passed at some point that says that spouses with shared credit and bank accounts must both be given separate credit scores for them.
So we sent those pages to the mortgages man, he checked them over, and I'm now looking at a virtual letter promising that the bank trusts us with the repayment of $more money than I've ever seen in my life at a rate just above our current rent. And to the owner of the tree I may have grievously damaged on the walk back from the bank - sorry about that.
PS. My credit score's better than Whitney's.
