The Update I didn’t want to make. Washington Federal steals from Disabled People.

I am alive. I am also annoyed. I keep trying to update with nice things like the fact my carer is awesome, and the agency sucks. I keep wanting to update on helpful things. Instead I am going to paste my facebook status about Washington Federal bank who stole from me. Flat out. Stole. Shocking? Doubtful. It is a bank. Do I want this passed on? Yep. If you are with them should you run? Far and fast.

 

This post is public. I want to have you all share this because the bank Washington Federal is underhanded, slimy and needs to lose customers. I didn’t ever open an account. They bought my bank. The building is in accessible. My account was bought out in 2008. The first thing they did was lose it. I had to find proof of my account amid surviving my exhusband’s attempts on my life, my disability issues etc. Their building is NOT ADA compliant. THe doors are too heavy for my carer to open without struggle, there is no button and often they ignore you trying to get in. When I settled for the drive through as I couldn’t juggle between banks and everything else. They called me after and miscounted money. They wanted me to drop what I was doing and go back to make sure they hadn’t given me too much. On the contrary they shorted me but I was not wanting to challenge the seizures that can happen when i deal with numbers so I had trusted. That never occured again. Several seizures and migranes and counting and the next few times same thing. So I only went inside and only when I had to. A friend helped me set up a bluebird account. I had a free account, and left enough to keep it free and hopefully save.

A few years of this bullshit go by and every visit is accompanied by a promise they are working on the door. I stopped pretending to believe them. A transaction where a friend sent money to pay for vet bills went awry and they…lost my money. Again. Why didn’t I close? At this time there weren’t alternatives and my exhusband’s financial abuse meant I didn’t HAVE options. If I wanted my SSi to pay bills I was stuck. Soon though that changed with the shift from paperchecks to bank cards. I switched immediately as often my bank didn’t have my pay on the first and this endangered my ability to keep my home and eat. Living on six hundred dollars a month for years the added stress was one I didn’t need. So I kept the account as an emergency back up with 100 dollars. It was hard but I decided an emergency may happen.

I with drew seventy five of it last year because I had uncovered medication I needed and no alternative. I got my first statement since then a few days ago with no money, and a notice of closure today. The statement arrived on a Saturday and yesterday (Monday) I was dealing with other things related to my health and the surgery I just had. so I call. I sit on hold for ten minutes not trusting them to call me back and get told how I should feel bad for the BANKER in all thisbecause he has had disabled and elderly relations die. Their inaccessible bank tells me this is probable bullshit and he doesn’t care. The fact that I am now out money because they felt they could change policy without actually notifying me? I am just screwed.

So if you bank with Washington Federal CHECK YOUR ACCOUNT. Their irregular statements sent whenever they feel like it are an issue, i will be filing complaints over their head and in the end? Just close the account if you can. I considered it earlier this year and regret not doing it since I now DO have options. It just means I can’t cash a check. I don’t really get those often anymore. Pass this on, because if you care about yourself, others, or just want banks who treat people this way to go out of business its the only way. For the strangers who read this I am extremely disabled with multiple health issues which are rare and untreatable, I live on SSI which is now 700 a month for rent, food, utilities, and the care for my pets. Assistance is something everyone needs and when a bank loses your monthly check then you have to prove you had an account multiple times but you are trapped and they know it? Its horrible. No one should be treated this way. My anger doesn’t have much pull but you being aware does. So share this. Spread it around. The fact that they couldn’t treat me with basic respect and expected me to just be happy about this is the worst part. The fact that apparently I am the same as a dead person is strange to me but the management doesn’t care.

If you want to call the branch and personally let them know you heard about this, this isn’t my legal name (not giving that as this is my preferred name) but you can talk to the manager Juan. Their phone number is 505-291-3700. Feel free to ask them questions about this. They will lie, they will give bullshit answers. Ask them about their inaccessible building and wait for the excuse of “We’re working on that.” There is no excuse for this behavior. For those in question the specific building is the one on Eubank but all their locations are THIS BAD. The bank they bought out was actually quite good. I am going to the better business bureau. I am going to push but we all know Banks are seen as untouchable. If all their customers leave? They aren’t.

“I wouldn’t have done that…”

My violent tendencies were tripped this week, like a laser alarm in my mind. The skulker had no idea they had unleashed a pack of semi rabid half starved trained for violence chihuahuas onto them. I say small dogs because I have yet to meet more than one nice one, and he was willing to attempt to disembowel you with out warning. I am currently keeping mum on the exact details, as I am going to wait until my rage has subsided first.

Lets just say that a business chose to basically threaten letting my Exhusband know where I am, because I didn’t like the way they were treating me and I called them on their stuff. In fact I linked them to my blog so that they can know what was said about them due to their accusations that I’ve been bad mouthing them. So, now that it is clear to they and I who they are, lets talk about why I do things others fear, and stabbing people!

I know my violent tendencies are there. I cannot recall a period in my life where when even mildly irritated firebombing someone did not seem like a great idea. This bothers me every day of my life because I am well aware that most people don’t think this way. If they do, no one admits it. I know when I am angry that I should not do several things. The first is eating, I’ve broken more dishes and hurt myself more times by eating angry than I care to think about. It starts with enjoying how nice it is to stab my steak and then the knife is in someone or the table or the plate is in pieces. I haven’t eaten when angry since I was 13 and my impulse control is greatly increased but not enough so that I can trust myself to not do really stupid things.

I have also mastered some levels of “social normative” activities to work around my constant anger. It used to be my default emotion and it turns out I like moderately content or happy best. I am usually happy not a bundle of putrifying rage that would like to gladly defame a business, but I haven’t once, and I won’t do so. That goes against my moral code. So, when I am angry with a business I usually ask them about the thing that has me angry, if I can I email them. I also hire M or another friend to help me remove the rage spasms from the text.

Most often this solves the issue. In fact it is very rare that the problem isn’t worked out, and I admit sometimes I am mad over small stuff or something I don’t understand and that is a huge part of why I ask questions. If I am expecting a package and it never shows and yo uare Dell, I skip the rage nutering of my emails and skip to calling you and making your tech support bleed out their eyes. That’s because Dell is Dell, everyone who has worked with them knows already that their customer service was trained in hell tactics. I swear my grandmother may be involved in their training, though I am not positive as to how.

The next step on my avoiding making these businesses hate me is explaining why I am angry. When this however earns me threats of a person who very much wants me dead being thrust into my life, when the business is also fully aware of this then it takes a lot for me to not make bad things come out of my fingers. I usually wait a while to stay calm, thinking over what to say. Again M usually gelds my letters of their rage. He helps me to concisely communicate more often than is fair. My caregivers also get to work on this task, but I like M’s method of “I wouldn’t send it that way, I’d do this but if you want to you really can… but XYZ may happen”. It mixes amusement into my thinking as I imagine apocalypses over silly things like ebay cats. I still am laughing at finding Sylvani on Ebay.

If that approach fails then I go ahead and verbally reproach people. I don’t let myself curse them out, instead I let my venom show. I have been told I put tone into toneless text with precision. If I could there are times I would instead insert an internet gnome to pop out of their computers, run around grabbing valuables and stab people to death. That’s the mood I am in.

It’s usually once I reach that “firebomb of rage” letter that I get told often, “I wouldn’t have done that.” I have noticed however that when i do it this way things work out, or I just sue people and then it works out when they are ground to dust under my heel. I haven’t felt this angry with a business in a long time, but threatening someoe’s safety even implicating in anyway that a homocidal maniac should be introduced back into their lives tends to make people with PTSD and rage issues a little crazy.

I don’t know why, but the other time people tell me they wouldn’t do what I do is when they admire me. Sometimes over the same thing. Sometimes I think I say things people wish they “had the balls to say”. This is where I get into the social stumbling grounds. It’s apparently not okay to tell someone that their behaviors make you angry. Instead a woman’s place, as good old mumsy would say, is to silently bear it or just quietly ask them to stop.

I don’t do quiet. I am belligerant. I am rageful. I will fuck them up.

I am glad I think the way I do but today it feels like a burden. No amount of adorable cats or doctor’s with cranial implosions from just getting to meet me can change that. ANother post is forth coming but… I wouldn’t have done a lot of things, yet I rarely mention it to people. I am just angry.

I don’t know when my anger will subside, I do know that most of it is this business causing me undo pain, making me feel like they are robbing me, threatening my safety, and also dealing with Rose dying. I don’t see why it’s taking longer to “get over it” with her than it did Nymph. Then again, maybe it is supposed to?

When Life is a Trigger Warning (Trigger Warning)

I wrote over 7000 words and WordPress ate it. I’ll try again later. I am really really not okay with this turn of events.

Begging at the Poorhouse Door

I live in a low income apartment complex. This means everyone here is either on Section 8 or earns a minimal income. We are all considered the poorest of the poor. I have been here for two months, though it feels like a blissful eternity. I am even getting used to the six AM vaccume sessions overhead. They help me wake up on time for meetings at least.

I have nice neighbors, the woman and her family upstairs are from India, and we exchange pleasantries often. The man next door is a white guy who works at Taco Bell and has four kids. I have yet to see much issue with my neighbors. However, there is a sudden trend. It might be due to more lay offs, but, suddenly people are begging at my front door. Not once, not twice, three times. I also can hear through the walls and know others are facing this same thing.

It isn’t just that they are begging at low income housing that bothers me. It is really how they beg. The first person who came was utterly honest, “Hey, I am sorry to bother you. We have never met but I live in Apartment 123 (not the real location) and just lost my job. I can’t afford food tonight, can I borrow something? I will pay you back as soon as possible.” I let my Person juggle things like this. Food requests send me over an edge still, and even if I have it I want to be irrationally greedy, fearing my own stomach will go empty. He gave her some gluteny pasta and sauce. He offered more but she declined. This incident doesn’t bother me in the least. I am proud of my Person’s ability to help, proud that we have enough food, and I am secretly glad that the pasta is gone since he eats my Rice pasta with me. Gluten Free leftovers are icky.

The second incident was much weirder. It had been a long day, I had Toastmasters, I had given a speech, then something else draining occured. Sprite was upset, so, I climb down, appraise the distance between me and the door and we manage it. Barely through the door when knock knock knock. “Oh, could you please drive all of this garbage I just pulled out of the dumpster over to my apartment on XYZ street?” I just climbed into bed, leaving him to deal with this intruder. “I’ll give it all to the homeless tommarrow.” Yeah right, that was my instant impulse. My person is more generous than I am with this sort of thing, though he shared my reticence to give a stranger a ride. He helped her carry it to her apartment and did not go inside. She seemed disappointed by the fact that she had to carry her loot, though what she would have done if we had not returned home boggles my mind. Would she have left it there? Was she really just lying in wait? It was creepy. My instincts said it was bad and so did my persons. He expressed concern that people will keep asking to use our vehicle now, because it is a nice, big van. I responded with this, “It’s ours. We say no. I don’t know these people. They do not get to risk my transportation. I was trapped for too long to let that happen.” He agreed.

Just now, i got up from my writing, and went to the restroom. I leave the door open incase I need help. That happens often enough and it is much easier to shout through an open door than a closed one. William Shakespurr has become my Bathroom buddy and he sauntered in just in time to get trapped by the knocking. Person closed the door and I listened intently. “Uh could you buy my cable box? I just got uot of the hospital and I want to sell it.” Two things. The cable box is not hers to sell. The cable company only rents them. I don’t want to buy a cable box that could get me put in jail. “No.” He closed the door then let me and William out.

I discovered upon asking that he has fended several away from the door. This is becoming an agitation. I live in the technical poorhouse too. I am not wealthy. What I have I have earned, struggled for, and often doesn’t go as far as I need. Yes, I am willing to help people when I can but, if you are going to go around with a sob story, several of the incidents I am not able to mention here due to my desire to be blatantly mean about their claims were over the top dramatic sob stories, then at least be realistic. IF you just want cash. Get a job, pan handle on the free way, but do not come asking me for cash.

Just like the rest of America, just like the rest of the world I do not have extra money to spare. AIG has it. Go ask THEM for help with your hospital bills. Go ask them to feed your child, or to let you stay in their apartments for one night. This is not a homeless shelter, this is not a charity. This is my home. Back off.

Though I can be nice, kind, and charming. Though that is my default behavior pattern, when I feel invaded in my home I will show my teeth and proverbial claws. I do not like guests, except an exclusive few. I do not like strangers trying to invite themselves in.

I was homeless. I get going hungry. There are organizations, charities, and help groups that will feed you, clothe you, and most will try and help you get work. There are rent assistance programs, there are a myriad of ways to try and get help. Begging at the door of a person who is just as poor as you? That is not it.

No this essay is not gentle, it is merely my statements of fact and opinion. Every person has equal access to help, so ask in the right place and the right way. There are even places that will help you if you are not a legal citizen, without having you deported. Got it? Stay away from my door unless you are going to be a welcomed guest, do not ask for the few things I have. I do not share my necessities when they are barely obtained.

Do not ask me for food, shelter, clothing. I offer what I have to the world. My cast offs do not get thrown away, they get given to charities or those in need. You can ask me for help finding food, shelter, and clothing. I am currently in need of many of those things.

Although I do not begrudge the first request, a part of me wonders if giving that woman food is why everyone else is coming here. The first was no leech, but the rest? That sucking sensation has drained me of my good will.

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