"December to Remember"

It's that time of year again. Every day, there are commercials on TV telling me to buy my loved ones luxury automobiles or diamond jewelry for the holidays.

It's not going to happen.

Look, I'm not going to tell you how to spend your money. Do whatever you want - spend it, don't spend it, give gifts, don't give gifts. If you want to give me a car, I'll take it and be grateful. Just know that my idea of ideal gift giving and yours do not mesh.

I think that gifts should, ideally, be small. They're meant to say, "I thought about you!" The last time I made a "wish list" for my husband, it had brown eyeliner and bed sheets on it. We also have a deal - there will be chocolate in my Christmas stocking.

I will totally admit to occasionally giving expensive gifts, but that usually involves travel. (Once it was scuba classes.) Experiences are more valuable than things are.

Again, I'm not telling you what to do, but this is what works for me.

People have told me why they think that big ticket items are something that should wait for special occasions; I know those reasons. I just feel that, if you've taught yourself to expect a car with a big bow on it in your driveway, just because it's a holiday (or birthday or anniversary), you've 1. put the emphasis in the wrong place, and 2. set yourself up to be deeply disappointed if the gesture isn't huge. And how many huge gestures are even possible, much less likely, in an average year or an average life? "Going big" ceases to be big if it's commonplace.

If you'd be happy with some candy, some warm socks, a good meal and a good book, you can pretty much guarantee a happy holiday. Think about that - guaranteed happiness! Who doesn't want that?

If, however, you've trained yourself to expect a two carat solitaire, you'll be disappointed with a one carat solitaire.

Years ago, I worked with a lovely, delightful, bright lady, who came from a family with more money than mine had. I remember clearly one November, when she announced, "I've just paid off last Christmas!" I was horrified. I said something (undoubtedly indelicate, like, "Are you crazy?"), and she looked puzzled. "That's how it's done," she said.

"Not in my family!"

"In every family."

We tangled about this for a few minutes. She thought that I was just being ignorant of family finances, and I was assuring her, "I'm not talking theoretically." My mother handled the money in the family I grew up in; I handle the money in my family. I know how it's spent.

She's a lovely person, but she may have felt a bit attacked, because we ended with her saying something about how "most people" wanted their holiday to "be nice," and credit cards were how that was accomplished, so my holidays were undoubtedly not "nice."

I beg to differ. My holidays were lovely. They still are.

I'm gearing up for this year's Christmas celebration. We'll have dollar store candy and discount store clothes and a fantastic time. I love this time of year; it's my favorite! No luxury cars or diamonds are needed.

The Phone Cops, Part 2

Once, years ago, I deliberately let an account go to collection, despite the fact that I value my good credit rating and I'm vigilant about paying off debts.

I had signed up for a certain number of payments on an item, and I was sure that I had paid the requisite number. Whenever I contacted the company and asked them for the exact date the debt was due to be paid, they either flatly ignored my letters or were cagey, insisting that I owed more without telling me when they had my last payment scheduled. I took to saying, "I want a copy of the forms that I signed," and they ignored me.

So, I let them send it to a collection agency. When I explained the issue to them, they asked the company for copies of my contract. It turns out that I'd miscounted by 2 payments (math is not my strong suit). Armed with a copy of the contract, with a printed "paid in full by" date on it, I happily sent in a check for the two remaining payments, and never heard from them again.

I've written before about my attempts to get my mother's phone turned off after her death. It's been nine months now since she passed away. The granddaughter who lives in Mom's house recently brought me a piece of mail. "It's addressed to Grandma; it's from a collection agency," she said. Of course, it's about the phone. AT&T claims that Mom owes them almost $200. They have turned off her phone, but not because we requested it - they claim that she's not paying her bill.

My knee-jerk reaction was to say, "Good luck proving that she legitimately acquired this debt from beyond the grave! She doesn't need the phone where she is! Go ahead and trash her credit - she doesn't need that either!" That is, however, both juvenile and misplaced hostility. I'm not angry at the collection agency, I'm angry at AT&T. In fact, I welcome the agency's involvement. Maybe AT&T will have to respond to them, instead of ignoring them or giving them the runaround.

I sent the collection agency this letter:

"To Whom It May Concern,

The enclosed form has been forwarded to me as the trustee of the estate of Mrs. B. E. Smith, otherwise known as Mrs. E. R. Smith (her husband, E. R. Smith, passed away in 1988, but some accounts, including this one, remain in his name.)

Mrs. Smith passed away on October 30, 2012. As her bills came in, each was paid in full and each account holder was provided with a copy of the enclosed letter, dated November 19, 2012, notifying them of Mrs. Smith's passing, and requesting that all her accounts be cancelled. Every creditor except AT&T complied with this request. Her final accounts, including this one, were paid in full after her passing.

Over the last eight months, AT&T has been notified by mail, by phone and via the Internet of Mrs. Smith's passing, numerous times, with a request to cancel her account. Most communication from us has been simply ignored, but I have also encountered the following, through various AT&T channels:

1.       The letter was never received, because it was sent to the wrong address. When I requested  the correct address, I was told, "I'm sorry, I don't have that information."

2.       The phone number provided on the AT&T bill for customer service, as well as the phone number provided on their web page, does not connect to an operator, but to a recording that informs me that, "Service cannot be cancelled over the phone."

3.       The link provided for "modify or cancel service" on the web page takes me to a page that informs me that, "Service cannot be cancelled over the Internet."

4.       When I finally drove to an AT&T store in frustration, an employee used their phone to connect me to an actual human being, who informed me that she could not cancel the service as she could not "verify" my request. She promised that her manager would phone me, on my own line, within 30 minutes to take care of the problem. I never received the phone call.

When the phone was finally turned off, I assumed that the message had finally made its way through AT&T channels, and the account had been cancelled because Mrs. Smith is deceased, and AT&T has been asked repeatedly to terminate service. To find that AT&T considers this bill to be valid, despite its being accrued after Mrs. Smith's passing and despite repeated requests to cancel service, is astonishing in the extreme.

This is not a valid debt. If necessary, I can, and will, provide the name of the attorney handling Mrs. Smith's trust, and allow her to conduct any further communication with AT&T.

I regret that you have been asked to waste your time in this endeavor.

Thank you."

I'm not kidding about the attorney. The estate attorney works for the same firm that employed my mom. She's not cheap, but she is very good. If I have to pay her to take care of this, I will, but it will tick me off. I mean. more than I'm already ticked off.

Let's see if we can finally lay this to rest, as it were.