There is much to write about, especially in the wake of the student loan provisions of the health care bill, and I will get to that soon.
But I want to clarify a post I'd made about how to get bonuses and/or keep your job regarding hitting major targets. There is also a system for getting a bonus check and keeping your job that is called NPV (net personal value).
NPV is essentially how much profit the company believes you should be pulling in so that they can justify paying you - a strange variation on commission sales. It is a calculation based on rehabilitated loans, amount of money you get paid in, number of wage garnishments, and dollar amounts of hardship programs. Different percentages are figured in for different amounts paid on loans, and obviously hardship programs are paid at a much lesser rate than rehabilitated loans.
The best of all worlds is to be able to hit both goals and NPV, in which case you get a substantial bonus check. I was pretty sure my goals were well out of reach at mid-March, and I hadn't thought at all about NPV - it was a complex calculation I hadn't put many brain cells toward.
But then a funny thing happened. I set up some very sizable hardship programs - several of them. And in the last half of the month, some large loans went through rehabilitation.
So I'm not near goal - I've only hit 70% of my rehab dollar goal with one day left, and only about 30% of another related target (though 100% of another), but with the hardship programs (over 100K total for the month) I will be at a high enough NPV to keep my job. Maybe even get a bonus check - we'll see.
I have mixed feelings about this - there is a part of me that was looking for this strange trip to come to its end, and now I'm staggering along for another month. On the other hand, with changes in personal life, this might also buy me the time to get things together and figure out what I need to do at this point and what I want to do.
And a final day to see if I can close out big.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Friday, March 26, 2010
You can only help those who want it
So I finally had a resolution on the hardship program I wrote about in the "Disability" post. I'd called the borrower a couple of times, and she told me that her sister was very busy lately, and might have time later on in the month to help her with the paperwork.
I had it pointed out to me that the account had been in an "application in process" status for close to two months, and there needed to be a resolution on it immediately. Contact the sister and explain the situation.
So I called the sister, and got the husband on the phone instead. He explained to me that he believed my offer to be a scam, that he was having a lawyer read over the paperwork on his own time, they would contact us when they were good and goddamned ready, and by the way don't ever fucking call this house again.
Click.
And so ends that. As the sister is no longer a valid reference with her number marked as a Do Not Call number, the program is off the table. Loan is moved from "Application in progress" to "Direct Refuse to Pay". The codes show a direct refusal of the hardship program, which essentially means balance in full is due. Calls to this number will be direct and blunt. There is the possibility of her disability payments being garnished in the future at 15%.
I try to tell myself I did everything I could, but if I didn't have nagging doubts I wouldn't still be awake at quarter to four.
In the end one can only help those who want to be helped. It's a heck of a position, and one that I'm facing with a number of other hardship programs I have out there. But I'm just going to have to let them go, one way or another. I hope things turn around for them. But if they aren't willing to grab the rope, I can't do anything.
I had it pointed out to me that the account had been in an "application in process" status for close to two months, and there needed to be a resolution on it immediately. Contact the sister and explain the situation.
So I called the sister, and got the husband on the phone instead. He explained to me that he believed my offer to be a scam, that he was having a lawyer read over the paperwork on his own time, they would contact us when they were good and goddamned ready, and by the way don't ever fucking call this house again.
Click.
And so ends that. As the sister is no longer a valid reference with her number marked as a Do Not Call number, the program is off the table. Loan is moved from "Application in progress" to "Direct Refuse to Pay". The codes show a direct refusal of the hardship program, which essentially means balance in full is due. Calls to this number will be direct and blunt. There is the possibility of her disability payments being garnished in the future at 15%.
I try to tell myself I did everything I could, but if I didn't have nagging doubts I wouldn't still be awake at quarter to four.
In the end one can only help those who want to be helped. It's a heck of a position, and one that I'm facing with a number of other hardship programs I have out there. But I'm just going to have to let them go, one way or another. I hope things turn around for them. But if they aren't willing to grab the rope, I can't do anything.
Saturday, March 20, 2010
A musical interlude
I spend a lot of my workday listening to music, or at least brief snippets of music. "Company X - can you hold please?" and we're off.
There's a whole range of hold music out there. Many times the hold music is soft jazz, or light classical. I've so far only encountered one company that used the classic "Muzak" - an arrangement of the Beatles "In My Life" for harpsichord and Pan flute. (And they kept me on hold for the whole song.)
Occasionally I get internal advertising for the company itself, which can be interesting to find out what the company does. (We are discouraged from doing research before calling - just dial the number and stop wasting time.) Just good to know what's going on before they pick up the phone or transfer you to voice mail.
The ones that crack me up are the ones that put on radio signals. Aside from being illegal (learned from my days at Muzak), you might just hear competitor's commercials while on hold. Not good.
Internally, we have a Miles Davis song I actually used to like, and probably will again once it's no longer a Pavlovian trigger for annoyance at having to waste my time waiting for a department who never picks up their damn phone.
For external calls, we have no hold music. Which requires telling people we have no hold music, so they don't think we've hung up on them. Don't know why we can't inflict Miles Davis on them as well.
The other musical interludes I get during the day are ringback tones. Ringback tones are a sort of face to the world - sometimes a favorite song, sometimes a sentiment to express religious devotion, or a pose to show how cool you might happen to be.
Some are funny, some are great songs, and some are just plain disturbing (the woman who had a song where the singer proclaimed over and over, "Daddy, will you be my Daddy? Oh Daddy, I need a Daddy..." made my skin crawl every time I called).
Answering machines are a whole separate post. But I leave you with what would be my ringback tone (it's the chorus section for the tone) if my phone weren't too old to load one on:
There's a whole range of hold music out there. Many times the hold music is soft jazz, or light classical. I've so far only encountered one company that used the classic "Muzak" - an arrangement of the Beatles "In My Life" for harpsichord and Pan flute. (And they kept me on hold for the whole song.)
Occasionally I get internal advertising for the company itself, which can be interesting to find out what the company does. (We are discouraged from doing research before calling - just dial the number and stop wasting time.) Just good to know what's going on before they pick up the phone or transfer you to voice mail.
The ones that crack me up are the ones that put on radio signals. Aside from being illegal (learned from my days at Muzak), you might just hear competitor's commercials while on hold. Not good.
Internally, we have a Miles Davis song I actually used to like, and probably will again once it's no longer a Pavlovian trigger for annoyance at having to waste my time waiting for a department who never picks up their damn phone.
For external calls, we have no hold music. Which requires telling people we have no hold music, so they don't think we've hung up on them. Don't know why we can't inflict Miles Davis on them as well.
The other musical interludes I get during the day are ringback tones. Ringback tones are a sort of face to the world - sometimes a favorite song, sometimes a sentiment to express religious devotion, or a pose to show how cool you might happen to be.
Some are funny, some are great songs, and some are just plain disturbing (the woman who had a song where the singer proclaimed over and over, "Daddy, will you be my Daddy? Oh Daddy, I need a Daddy..." made my skin crawl every time I called).
Answering machines are a whole separate post. But I leave you with what would be my ringback tone (it's the chorus section for the tone) if my phone weren't too old to load one on:
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Denial - not just a river in Egypt
One of the responses I get to calls when people find out I'm calling on their student loans is to say they will contact their original lender and/or the guarantor to see about what can be done regarding the loan, thank you very much.
Occasionally I just get a hangup after that, but usually they are looking for some sort of validation. A statement along the lines of, "Oh, yes, well, I'm glad to be of service to remind you of this pressing debt, thank you so much for answering your phone and I'm sure you will deal with this matter promptly."
They aren't going to get it.
There are usually three institutions they want to speak with, and if we can get a word in edgewise, these are also the responses:
"I'll call the school and see about this - after all, I never attended classes."
The school got paid when the loan was taken out. You don't owe them funds, nor can they or will they reimburse funds paid out two/five/twenty years ago. No matter what the circumstances for why you believe the school shouldn't have taken your loan money, they did. Your window for arguing this, short of hiring and attorney and filing a lawsuit, is over. Let's talk.
"I'll talk to the bank that I took the loan out with originally."
They got paid. When your loan went into default, the guarantor paid the original lender. The original lender will tell you that, and inform you to deal with whatever collection agency has your loan now. That's us. Let's talk.
"I'll talk to the guarantor and see what we can work out."
We are collecting on their behalf. They are paying us to call you. If you call them directly, they will tell you to call us. Let's talk.
In some cases, it's a delaying tactic - there is someone else I can deal with who is not you, so let me tell you I will contact them and that means you may get bored and go away.
But in a lot of cases, it really is denial. No one wants to believe they are really dealing with a collection agency, or they want to believe there is some way they can escape having to deal with it. Collections only happen to bad people, they only happen to other people, not to me, certainly. There is a way to get out of this.
And those people do get really excited about the rehabilitation program when they find out how it works. It's just a matter of keeping them on the phone. Unlike the angry person I spoke to in the previous post, who you really can't do anything with.
Though I suppose the ultimate denials as the ones who I hear their voicemail message over and over and over...and they never pick up.
Occasionally I just get a hangup after that, but usually they are looking for some sort of validation. A statement along the lines of, "Oh, yes, well, I'm glad to be of service to remind you of this pressing debt, thank you so much for answering your phone and I'm sure you will deal with this matter promptly."
They aren't going to get it.
There are usually three institutions they want to speak with, and if we can get a word in edgewise, these are also the responses:
"I'll call the school and see about this - after all, I never attended classes."
The school got paid when the loan was taken out. You don't owe them funds, nor can they or will they reimburse funds paid out two/five/twenty years ago. No matter what the circumstances for why you believe the school shouldn't have taken your loan money, they did. Your window for arguing this, short of hiring and attorney and filing a lawsuit, is over. Let's talk.
"I'll talk to the bank that I took the loan out with originally."
They got paid. When your loan went into default, the guarantor paid the original lender. The original lender will tell you that, and inform you to deal with whatever collection agency has your loan now. That's us. Let's talk.
"I'll talk to the guarantor and see what we can work out."
We are collecting on their behalf. They are paying us to call you. If you call them directly, they will tell you to call us. Let's talk.
In some cases, it's a delaying tactic - there is someone else I can deal with who is not you, so let me tell you I will contact them and that means you may get bored and go away.
But in a lot of cases, it really is denial. No one wants to believe they are really dealing with a collection agency, or they want to believe there is some way they can escape having to deal with it. Collections only happen to bad people, they only happen to other people, not to me, certainly. There is a way to get out of this.
And those people do get really excited about the rehabilitation program when they find out how it works. It's just a matter of keeping them on the phone. Unlike the angry person I spoke to in the previous post, who you really can't do anything with.
Though I suppose the ultimate denials as the ones who I hear their voicemail message over and over and over...and they never pick up.
Shooting the messenger
Tuesday was one of those days where the yelling and screaming just got to me, and I called in sick on Wednesday. Having a day off can be dangerous, and in this case led to a rash of personal decisions that might not have happened otherwise. Sometimes you just need something to push you over the edge, and Tuesday was it.
I called a small balance account I'd gotten a positive phone number for - a small balance account being any loan under about 2K, but still high enough to put into a rehabilitation program. I'd called in the morning, was told he'd just left to run an errand, and he called back immediately.
And he was pissed.
It was a brand new account to the office, so I saw no payment history, and the first thing he started in on me for was the 6K tax offset he'd been hit with just two weeks previously.
"Dude, how do I get that back? My loans were in deferment. I need that cash. I'm unemployed, and that was going to be able to put money in the house."
I'd started a bit of the conversation with the financial statement to move the process forward after continued discussion about why things might have fallen through and the possibilities of what might have happened with the deferment. Reasonable guy.
Then the fatal words. "Hold on, let me put my wife on - you have my permission to speak with her."
(The "talk to my wife" with men goes one of two ways. If he is being belligerent and unreasonable, then getting his wife on the phone usually diffuses the situation and things resolve with a rehabilitated loan. If the man is being cool and reasonable prior to that statement, you are screwed. Oh - and turn down the heatset volume. Quick.)
Yelling I can handle. Four letter screaming fits I can deal with. Condescension, on the other hand...
"Look here - I don't know what you are trying to peddle, but we are having none of it. You need to tell me why you think we owe you this money, why you think we should pay any of it to you. I will simply call bank X that we borrowed it from, and you will get nothing."
I tried to explain to her that "bank X" had already been paid, and she was now dealing with the guarantor.
"Fine - give me their number then."
I can, but they will tell you to contact us.
"So you're telling me you can't give me any information about this whatsoever...can you do anything at all, or do you just sit on the phone yammer at people?"
After a little more time of this, I finally hand her off to the senior collector. She is going to fax over a whole pile of papers, and then we'll see what happens.
All told - over an hour and a half on the phone.
Next up is what I think should be a guaranteed rehabilitation. It was an account that I found a place of employment on the credit report (more new business) and needed to follow up on.
Called the business, everyone very polite. Oh yes, they say, she works over in this department - let me transfer you over there. Line was busy, and after investing the half hour or so into getting the direct number from the place of employment, I figured this would be a good return to form after that disaster of a call.
"Yes."
"Hi, my name is Nick, I was calling because..."
"Don't you EVER call me here again, you slimy son of a bitch."
Click.
15K, down the tubes. No home phone, references disconnected. Garnishment for someone in April, but not me, since I doubt I'll be around by then.
I took my fifteen minute break, grabbed a cup of coffee, and went outside. It was dark already, so I just walked over to the edge of the parking lot and stared out into the blackness. If I could have found any way to justify just getting into my car and driving off at that point, I would have.
This is hit goal or be finished month, and up to that point I didn't have a single rehabilitated loan (as of now I still only have two). A number of things in my personal life have also come to a breaking point as well, including some options regarding the future coming to a point of no return (if they haven't already and I'm just not paying attention).
So I got in my car on Wednesday, and called in an emergency day. First time calling in because I didn't feel like showing up, which is definitely the sign of needing to move on. And I will, along with having made some other serious changes. Things are being shaken up, and hopefully for the better. We'll find out soon enough.
I called a small balance account I'd gotten a positive phone number for - a small balance account being any loan under about 2K, but still high enough to put into a rehabilitation program. I'd called in the morning, was told he'd just left to run an errand, and he called back immediately.
And he was pissed.
It was a brand new account to the office, so I saw no payment history, and the first thing he started in on me for was the 6K tax offset he'd been hit with just two weeks previously.
"Dude, how do I get that back? My loans were in deferment. I need that cash. I'm unemployed, and that was going to be able to put money in the house."
I'd started a bit of the conversation with the financial statement to move the process forward after continued discussion about why things might have fallen through and the possibilities of what might have happened with the deferment. Reasonable guy.
Then the fatal words. "Hold on, let me put my wife on - you have my permission to speak with her."
(The "talk to my wife" with men goes one of two ways. If he is being belligerent and unreasonable, then getting his wife on the phone usually diffuses the situation and things resolve with a rehabilitated loan. If the man is being cool and reasonable prior to that statement, you are screwed. Oh - and turn down the heatset volume. Quick.)
Yelling I can handle. Four letter screaming fits I can deal with. Condescension, on the other hand...
"Look here - I don't know what you are trying to peddle, but we are having none of it. You need to tell me why you think we owe you this money, why you think we should pay any of it to you. I will simply call bank X that we borrowed it from, and you will get nothing."
I tried to explain to her that "bank X" had already been paid, and she was now dealing with the guarantor.
"Fine - give me their number then."
I can, but they will tell you to contact us.
"So you're telling me you can't give me any information about this whatsoever...can you do anything at all, or do you just sit on the phone yammer at people?"
After a little more time of this, I finally hand her off to the senior collector. She is going to fax over a whole pile of papers, and then we'll see what happens.
All told - over an hour and a half on the phone.
Next up is what I think should be a guaranteed rehabilitation. It was an account that I found a place of employment on the credit report (more new business) and needed to follow up on.
Called the business, everyone very polite. Oh yes, they say, she works over in this department - let me transfer you over there. Line was busy, and after investing the half hour or so into getting the direct number from the place of employment, I figured this would be a good return to form after that disaster of a call.
"Yes."
"Hi, my name is Nick, I was calling because..."
"Don't you EVER call me here again, you slimy son of a bitch."
Click.
15K, down the tubes. No home phone, references disconnected. Garnishment for someone in April, but not me, since I doubt I'll be around by then.
I took my fifteen minute break, grabbed a cup of coffee, and went outside. It was dark already, so I just walked over to the edge of the parking lot and stared out into the blackness. If I could have found any way to justify just getting into my car and driving off at that point, I would have.
This is hit goal or be finished month, and up to that point I didn't have a single rehabilitated loan (as of now I still only have two). A number of things in my personal life have also come to a breaking point as well, including some options regarding the future coming to a point of no return (if they haven't already and I'm just not paying attention).
So I got in my car on Wednesday, and called in an emergency day. First time calling in because I didn't feel like showing up, which is definitely the sign of needing to move on. And I will, along with having made some other serious changes. Things are being shaken up, and hopefully for the better. We'll find out soon enough.
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Keeping up appearances
On Saturday I got my first haircut since July. No, I am not posting pictures.
One of the things I realized relatively early on in collections is that no one cares what you look like. You're on the phone. No one actually ever sees you, so what does it really matter?
In theory there is a dress code, but if the building hits goal for the month everyone is allowed to "dress down" for the month. We've hit goal every month since I've been there, so the only time I ever dressed up was my first month in training.
There are a few criteria that can never be neglected. No hats. No open-toed shoes. No cargo pants (the extra pockets make security people nervous). No shorts. No shirts with inappropriate language.
So there is a wide range of appearances among collectors, especially among the younger crowd. Some with long crazy hair, some with a lot of tattoos, some with ear spacers (those odd tribal rings that stretch ears).
Managers, for the most part, dress business casual. There's one person I see around in a tie all the time - I'm not sure what his deal is, but more power to him.
I tend to show up mostly in jeans and a t-shirt or polo shirt of some kind. But when I saw the guy with the ear thingys and sleeve tattoos, I decided I could just grow my hair out and let the beard grow and be done with it. Heck - no one cares.
The thing I didn't realize was the way hair changes over time. Aside from growing grayer at an alarming rate, the consistency and pattern of hair changes. Those of you who remember me with long hair might remember the ringlets and curls, and thick billowing hair.
Not so much now. Right before I got it cut, I bore a striking resemblance to the Unabomber, or Nick Nolte's mugshot. (Okay, maybe I'll post pics on my Facebook page.)
I got lots of comments walking in today with short hair and a neatly trimmed Vandyke beard. A couple of people asked who the new guy was before realizing it was actually me.
Everyone seemed very approving, but I only got a couple of short comments from my manager. I'm guessing he figured out the reason for the haircut - if I'm going to start interviewing, I need to look slightly respectable. Which, on his end, means I've decided I'm not hitting goal this month.
And given that it's currently March 8th with not a single rehabbed loan, he's probably right.
One of the things I realized relatively early on in collections is that no one cares what you look like. You're on the phone. No one actually ever sees you, so what does it really matter?
In theory there is a dress code, but if the building hits goal for the month everyone is allowed to "dress down" for the month. We've hit goal every month since I've been there, so the only time I ever dressed up was my first month in training.
There are a few criteria that can never be neglected. No hats. No open-toed shoes. No cargo pants (the extra pockets make security people nervous). No shorts. No shirts with inappropriate language.
So there is a wide range of appearances among collectors, especially among the younger crowd. Some with long crazy hair, some with a lot of tattoos, some with ear spacers (those odd tribal rings that stretch ears).
Managers, for the most part, dress business casual. There's one person I see around in a tie all the time - I'm not sure what his deal is, but more power to him.
I tend to show up mostly in jeans and a t-shirt or polo shirt of some kind. But when I saw the guy with the ear thingys and sleeve tattoos, I decided I could just grow my hair out and let the beard grow and be done with it. Heck - no one cares.
The thing I didn't realize was the way hair changes over time. Aside from growing grayer at an alarming rate, the consistency and pattern of hair changes. Those of you who remember me with long hair might remember the ringlets and curls, and thick billowing hair.
Not so much now. Right before I got it cut, I bore a striking resemblance to the Unabomber, or Nick Nolte's mugshot. (Okay, maybe I'll post pics on my Facebook page.)
I got lots of comments walking in today with short hair and a neatly trimmed Vandyke beard. A couple of people asked who the new guy was before realizing it was actually me.
Everyone seemed very approving, but I only got a couple of short comments from my manager. I'm guessing he figured out the reason for the haircut - if I'm going to start interviewing, I need to look slightly respectable. Which, on his end, means I've decided I'm not hitting goal this month.
And given that it's currently March 8th with not a single rehabbed loan, he's probably right.
Sunday, March 7, 2010
Sunday at the office
One of the early stated requirements of the collections job is having to work two four-hour weekend shifts every month. The idea is to not overburden people with working every weekend, but still making a decent number of calls during times when borrowers and relatives are likely to be home.
Saturday hours are fixed at 10am - 2pm for the building. Working west coast accounts, this means I can't call the majority of my borrowers until an hour into my shift, which strikes me as insane and a horrific waste of time.
So I work on Sundays. The building is open for work from 12pm-8pm, and I generally try to work from 1-5 or 12-4. Today was 1-5, a quiet day of just myself, one other collector, and our manager.
One of the other side benefits to working on Sundays is that is the day our client gives us new business. So hundreds of accounts that have never been touched (by us, anyway) show up. Anyone who is there on Sunday can work them, and if you get them into a program, it's yours.
Sundays are kind of hit and miss. On the one hand, they tend to be quiet, since most of the east-coast lines of business prefer to work Saturdays. Sometimes the new business has gems to be converted. Sometimes you get some decent work done. And sometimes you just get yelled at and told you're going to Hell for working on the Lord's Day of Rest.
Collections is one of those areas where people still consider Sunday a sacred day of sorts. People who will go to Wal-Mart after church, call customer service for six or seven different things in the afternoon, or order stuff online are horrified that we have the gall to work on The Lord's Day. And will scream that we are agents of Satan or some sort of thing, and then hang up.
And having grown up in a rarefied time and place, I do remember the idea of Sunday as that day. In Maine in the 80's, stores over a certain square footage couldn't be open, so all you could do was go to the corner store (Nanou's or the tiny little shop just past the railroad tracks that isn't there anymore with the older couple - that's a remembrance for a different essay) and spend a quiet day at home.
Today wasn't horribly exciting - found some places of employment I need to follow up on tomorrow, but didn't actually talk to anyone new. Just got to take a small break in the middle of my shift, and look out over the valley with the melting snow. A day I wish I was doing something else, but weekend days at the office always feel like that.
Saturday hours are fixed at 10am - 2pm for the building. Working west coast accounts, this means I can't call the majority of my borrowers until an hour into my shift, which strikes me as insane and a horrific waste of time.
So I work on Sundays. The building is open for work from 12pm-8pm, and I generally try to work from 1-5 or 12-4. Today was 1-5, a quiet day of just myself, one other collector, and our manager.
One of the other side benefits to working on Sundays is that is the day our client gives us new business. So hundreds of accounts that have never been touched (by us, anyway) show up. Anyone who is there on Sunday can work them, and if you get them into a program, it's yours.
Sundays are kind of hit and miss. On the one hand, they tend to be quiet, since most of the east-coast lines of business prefer to work Saturdays. Sometimes the new business has gems to be converted. Sometimes you get some decent work done. And sometimes you just get yelled at and told you're going to Hell for working on the Lord's Day of Rest.
Collections is one of those areas where people still consider Sunday a sacred day of sorts. People who will go to Wal-Mart after church, call customer service for six or seven different things in the afternoon, or order stuff online are horrified that we have the gall to work on The Lord's Day. And will scream that we are agents of Satan or some sort of thing, and then hang up.
And having grown up in a rarefied time and place, I do remember the idea of Sunday as that day. In Maine in the 80's, stores over a certain square footage couldn't be open, so all you could do was go to the corner store (Nanou's or the tiny little shop just past the railroad tracks that isn't there anymore with the older couple - that's a remembrance for a different essay) and spend a quiet day at home.
Today wasn't horribly exciting - found some places of employment I need to follow up on tomorrow, but didn't actually talk to anyone new. Just got to take a small break in the middle of my shift, and look out over the valley with the melting snow. A day I wish I was doing something else, but weekend days at the office always feel like that.
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