To my Dear Friends at Bank of America:
My family says that it's futile to appeal to the feelings of a cold, monolithic, bureaucratic, multinational corporation, but I know they're wrong. The Supreme Court, in its infinite wisdom, said that corporations are people too. That's how I know you'll want to sympathize with my sad story.
(It's true we didn't originally pick you as our mortgage company but please, don't let that hurt your feelings. Our mortgage was sold to Countrywide and then sold to you, but that doesn't matter. In America, we all have to deal with the servicer we're sold to.)
There are many reasons we are in this situation, and since you and I have been talking for a while, you already know most of it, so I won't bore you with all the details. Suffice to say, it all started way back in 2008, right before the housing bubble popped and slimed the residue all over our economy. My husband and I suddenly found ourselves without jobs.
This is where you came in. After struggling mightily to keep up with our mortgage payments we went to you for help. I know how badly you wanted to be there for us in our time of need. Unfortunately, you told us we had to be three months behind in our payments before you could help. So we got behind. And then we got further and further behind. You finally did help, a year later. You came through with a modification that RAISED our payments. I must tell you, though you meant well, it wasn't that much help. Then, there was the modification you suddenly sent us that you later refused to acknowledge. Oh, I'm not blaming you. You had us talk to all sorts of different people who tried to help and afterwards none of them returned our calls. But it's okay. I know they were busy.
So now, 4 1/2 years later, you have your heart set on taking our house. I'm sorry we have to quarrel, but that's how it is sometimes with friends. I know if you really think about it and search your heart, you'll change your mind. Taking our house would mean taking the orange tree that I planted in the backyard. I just picked a basketful of fruit and the oranges are so sweet. It would mean taking away the sunny window where my African violets bloom best. You should see them, bursting with blossoms of bright pink and deep velvety blue. And taking our house would mean taking away the rose bushes I planted--one in each color: pink, red, yellow and orange. I chose them because they had names like Burning Desire and Cardinal Song. What about the fireplace where our children waited for Santa? We were hoping our grandchildren might do the same some day. And the lovely bay window we installed in the front bedroom and the brushed pewter chandelier we saved up to buy that hangs over the kitchen table? I know you wouldn't want to take all that away from us. After all, corporations are people too.
Thank you for taking the time to listen to my story. I wait hopefully for your response.
Sincerely,
A customer
My family says that it's futile to appeal to the feelings of a cold, monolithic, bureaucratic, multinational corporation, but I know they're wrong. The Supreme Court, in its infinite wisdom, said that corporations are people too. That's how I know you'll want to sympathize with my sad story.
(It's true we didn't originally pick you as our mortgage company but please, don't let that hurt your feelings. Our mortgage was sold to Countrywide and then sold to you, but that doesn't matter. In America, we all have to deal with the servicer we're sold to.)
There are many reasons we are in this situation, and since you and I have been talking for a while, you already know most of it, so I won't bore you with all the details. Suffice to say, it all started way back in 2008, right before the housing bubble popped and slimed the residue all over our economy. My husband and I suddenly found ourselves without jobs.This is where you came in. After struggling mightily to keep up with our mortgage payments we went to you for help. I know how badly you wanted to be there for us in our time of need. Unfortunately, you told us we had to be three months behind in our payments before you could help. So we got behind. And then we got further and further behind. You finally did help, a year later. You came through with a modification that RAISED our payments. I must tell you, though you meant well, it wasn't that much help. Then, there was the modification you suddenly sent us that you later refused to acknowledge. Oh, I'm not blaming you. You had us talk to all sorts of different people who tried to help and afterwards none of them returned our calls. But it's okay. I know they were busy.
So now, 4 1/2 years later, you have your heart set on taking our house. I'm sorry we have to quarrel, but that's how it is sometimes with friends. I know if you really think about it and search your heart, you'll change your mind. Taking our house would mean taking the orange tree that I planted in the backyard. I just picked a basketful of fruit and the oranges are so sweet. It would mean taking away the sunny window where my African violets bloom best. You should see them, bursting with blossoms of bright pink and deep velvety blue. And taking our house would mean taking away the rose bushes I planted--one in each color: pink, red, yellow and orange. I chose them because they had names like Burning Desire and Cardinal Song. What about the fireplace where our children waited for Santa? We were hoping our grandchildren might do the same some day. And the lovely bay window we installed in the front bedroom and the brushed pewter chandelier we saved up to buy that hangs over the kitchen table? I know you wouldn't want to take all that away from us. After all, corporations are people too.Thank you for taking the time to listen to my story. I wait hopefully for your response.
Sincerely,
A customer
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