Thursday, September 10, 2015

MOUSETRAP BANKS AND THE GOTCHA ECONOMY

When I did my bills this month, I discovered that I’d pushed back my Great Falls Tribune subscription to the next month for the third or fourth time this year. This always triggers phone calls and smarmy insincere letters about missing my favorite stories. In fact, the paper is more and more a paper for high school kids. No real news, just who’s “in” or “out.” I decided I didn’t need the sports news, recipes and funnies anymore and canceled my subscription. When the woman called to nag me, I told her what I’d done. “Oh,” she said, and hung up.


Later in the week I got a high pressure salesman trying to talk me into just subscribing to Sunday or Sunday-and-Wednesday. Locals refer to those for advertising, mostly food, otherwise, by the time I get the Tribune, everything has already happened and the events have moved on. In fact, they rarely cover this area of the state (high-line and rez) and when they do, they generally get it wrong. The reporter turnover is high and most of them are too young to have perspective. The editor and publisher are way behind the times and wary of offending advertisers, like the mega-hospital.

Portlandia Building, Portland, OR

My billing cycle is in monthly increments. Since all my brain power goes into words —  literacy —  I am innumerate. At one point in my checkered career I was the cashier for the City of Portland Bureau of Buildings, which showed how much they were scraping the bottom of the barrel, though I wasn’t quite as bad as the person I replaced. (“The Texas Mermaid” who took assignations on her lunch break and then ate at the cashier’s wicket so there splashes of soup on everything.) Also, the B of B was being converted to a new computer database and it was long enough ago that NO ONE knew what they were doing or even had the equipment they needed. For one day we literally had piles of money with little notes fastened to them. Hundreds and thousands of dollars.

The new cashier who joined me and then replaced me was terrific. Married into the military, she had been trained by a bank in Germany. Discovering how much trouble I had balancing the till at the end of my shift, she made us a little form to fill out. Using that, I could do it. So now I make me a form for the month for myself. It helps. I list all checks and mark them with a highlighter fibertip when they clear the bank — NOT when I write them. Then I write “paid” on the original bill and file it. It is not natural for me to be so tightly monitored, but it is the only way to keep from running up overdrawn fees, late fees, and all the other ingenious fees banks impose. What it shows is that the cost of living has roughly doubled since I moved back here. 


Valier Wells Fargo Bank

The little cement-block bank that is in the town of Valier is a branch of Wells Fargo, which the City of Portland dumped because of mistakes and overcharges. When I came in 1999, it would cheerfully change bills to quarters for a laundromat (Valier had a laundromat then), convert Canadian money, maintain little mail boxes for utility payments to save postage, and so on, but all that is gone now. The cashiers like Christmas because it gives them something to do: decorating.

I’ve always used a credit union and have kept my account in Portland. A few years ago it merged with a bank serving the hispanic community and for a while things were shaky because the union needed cashiers who spoke Spanish, but the cashiers were short on experience. I was grumbly until I discovered that these women were watching out for me. If they saw a transaction that didn’t make sense to them, they called me up. Long distance. Even the women who were down in the basement posting checks.

In the Sixties in Browning the bank was kind of free-form. At first it was a “white” bank with a mostly white clientele. Bob’s second wife worked there and she claimed that the $5 bills were forever sticking together so her till wouldn’t balance. In my time the bank would call up and say they needed Bob to come over and put more money in. They didn’t call it an overdraft. He’d drive the five blocks, if necessary stopping by his mom’s because she kept a safe with cash from the Browning Merc, and that was the end of it.

Then one day the bank came up short so they called Bob and said that they were missing a few hundred dollars and since he’d made the biggest deposit that day, they were deducting it from his account. They couldn’t find the mistake, but they were sure he was the problem. Anyway, he was white. He could afford it.


National American Indian Bank, Browning, MT

Finally the bank collapsed and for years all the merchants had to drive forty miles back and forth to Cut Bank, the closest banks. The banks didn’t mind. Neither did highway robbers. Finally, Eloise Cobell pioneered the first Indian-owned bank, which was her window into the world of money and eventually brought U.S. reparation for all the mismanaged trust funds of the tribe.

I notice articles now discussing the global ways of handling money and criticizing our 19th century methods. Electronics work for the people who handle big amounts of money that are checked several times and managed with computers anyway. They just correct the error and move on. But the little guy is back to the jar under the mattress, because coming up short at the end of the month means no food, no gas, no pills. Experts talk about banking in Africa, but not in the US.



Anyway, much of the economy is “under the mattress” or under the radar, because it is illegal — unrecorded and untaxed. Maybe offshore. But the mainstream economy is playing “gotcha” games with hidden costs and mousetrap fees. One of the writing platforms I’ve been using is debating whether it is “legal” not to notify users of the terms of service when the corporation changes them. Maybe retroactively. So why agree to them except for the triggering springs in the legal system.

Notably, Google — after trying to tempt everyone into a complicated little game called “Google Plus” in which users were supposed to arrange all their friends and acquaintances into circles, a strategy for junior high kids — went ahead without permission and consolidated everyone’s various blogs and email accounts into one big blob with implications for privacy, strategy, and simply keeping order. The idea seems to be to imitate the “omics” of biological research that try to find all the little connections among particles of the system so they can model the impact of events. Like sudden arrests or the advent of new products or the machinations of some country. The goal seems to be control — but not by the users.



2 comments:

Unknown said...

Hi, I know this has little to nothing to do with the blog post currently, but I was reading one from 2011 about the history of Melinda Wren. I wanted to find out if I could talk to you more on the subject? Melinda was a sister to my Great-Great Grandmother and I'd really like to find out if you have any more information than what I've been able to find.

Thank you so much!

-S.Ward

Mary Strachan Scriver said...

Sure. I'm in the phone book: Valier, MT Or prairiem at 3rivers.net.