This morning as the kids jumped out of the car to …

This morning as the kids jumped out of the car to go into school, this song – of ALL songs- came on.In fact at the moment they were stepping out, i heard “Looking back on the memory of….” And at that moment, I felt like she was saying to me, “I don’t want you to forget me today. I want you to remember…the memories.”

And on this day a year ago, we shared what have become some great memories.

Can I do tomorrow?

Can I? Have I fully wrapped my brain around this? Yes. But only just yesterday it came to mind. It began with a silly string of Christmas lights that wrapped the tiny frame of a white house that I pass everyday as I drive the kids to school. But on this evening, they were glowing and as my eyes searched the dark road, I was drawn to them.

One single silly string of white lights and the memories of she and I flooded my mind, seemingly taking over every inch of the canvas of my mind. It was no longer a blank slate as it had been for the past few months. The images were now bleeding into each other, the colors so vivid and the emotion so raw.

At that moment, my heart hurt. I saw in my mind the two of us- kids in tow- walking down a dimly lit street in Gainesville on Halloween evening, peeking in the kids bags hoping to score some chocolate. Those were some of our last moments together.

And so before I saw them- that string of white lights- I had neatly tucked her away. I could write about her without seeing the colors. My mind was blank as I wrote that last post about the 14 questions. People always tell me how strong I seem. But I have to tell you a little secret: I am not strong. I have simply folded the memories and tucked them away neatly in the back of the closet of my mind. Unseen has meant for me, unfeeling. But now the colors have invaded my mind. I see her like it was yesterday. Damnit.

Tomorrow is Halloween. I am supposed to be meeting Melissa to take the kids Trick-or -Treating. Iam hoping and praying that I can , just for a few hours, tuck her away again. Because I just can’t remember right now. I am not that strong.

AND MOVING ON….I NEED YOU.

Anyone up for an interview? I need a couple of real-life examples for an article about the dos and don’ts of arguing in front of children. If you meet the following criteria and you are willing to have me use your real name and location (just city and state)…email me and I will call you for a brief phone interview. Probably just 5-10 minutes. But how cool would it be for us to actually chat in real life?

I need moms (or dads) who can tell me about how they argue in front of their kids..It’s that simple. If you are up for it, I will email you with more details…

Thanks!!
Email me @ naomirich@yahoo.com
I would want to do this interview Wednesday the latest.

What happens when

hubby takes over for the day morning:

He always talks about how if he were a SAHD, how he would have things “so together.” How he would be able to volunteer and keep the house spic ‘n span and he would have hot dinners on the table the moment I walked through the door after a long day of work.

When he said that to me I thought…oh, you don’t actually know that staying home is work, obviously. And so on his day off, he was in charge of getting the kids to school and taking care of Eli. So when I walked in the living room after finishing my article, I had to snap this shot.

Honey, is this you keeping the house clean and having things “so together?” Whoa. So let’s discuss this picture. And please know that this is not my version of our home. This is my hubby’s version. I actually keep it looking half way decent.

So, the picture: I wish I could draw little arrows to each thing because only then could I do this picture some justice.

• So, check out the “Parenting” magazine stuffed under baby’s boppy. How did that even get there?
• Baby bottle: who knows how long it has been sitting there. And ofcourse yellow top on purple bottle. So you obviously didn’t notice THAT, but momma always matches her bottles.
• diaper bag: because too much effort goes into putting random things anywhere other than the coffee table.
• My wallet: apparently daddy needed some lunch money for the kids this morning; notice how it is still open and NOT back in my purse.
• Plastic box is daughter’s “hair box” where we keep her rubberbands, brushes, etc. Too much effort to put it back in the bathroom drawer, I guess.
• That notebook you see is my son’s. It is SUPPOSED to go with him to school each morning.
• Random kids’ clothes on the couch. I guess this was hubby’s version of getting the kids dressed for school.
• And many more random things….

And this, in a matter of just hours. I think I took this picture around 11 a.m. I don’t want to know what my house would look like if I left him for an entire day. What’s really funny is that if you look closely, the cover story on the magazine is “Get Organized.”

Almost 17 years ago…

I was in the ninth grade when our town was voted the number one place to live in the nation. I remember that it was a really big deal; it was splashed all over the papers. There were some national newspieces. But just about a week later, the nightmare begin. And it was a literal nightmare.

Sonja Larsen and Christina Powell: Were the first of five. They were freshman at the University of Florida who were about to start their first day of college. They were last seen at the Wal-Mart on Archer road. They, like college kids everywhere, were buying things for their first college apartment. They checked out at register #11 and then made a phone call from the pay phone that sat beside the row of luminescent soda machines that lined the walls of the entranceway; both girls called their parents to let them know how things were going and that the house phone would be hooked up soon. That would be their last hello and their last goodbye. That night, Danny Rolling slipped in through an open sliding glass door that one of the girls apparently let open so they could feel the warm breeze in the midst of a sweltering Florida August night.

Officers were processing the scene when they got a call to check on Christa Hoyt, who didn’t show up for work. This was the girl that graduated from my highschool. When they went to check on her, they found her decapitated body in her tiny one bedroom apartment that sat just down this little dirt road surrounded by a thick patch of woods.

Tracy and Manny were not a couple. They were roommates. She was a senior at the University of Florida. Tracy had spent the weekend with her boyfriend and was driving home on a Sunday evening. She had spoken to a girlfriend before she made it home that night; her girlfriend told her about the murder. She told her to make sure that her windows and doors were locked. But I’m sure Tracy felt safe with her roommate who had the build of a football player. Tracy had just gotten out of the shower when she probably peeked into Manny’s room to say goodnight. It would be her last goodnight ever. Rolling made his entry through a sliding glass door and probably caught Manny offguard; probably caught him in his sleep. That could be the only explanation why a man of his strength and stature could be overpowered by someone like Rolling. Tracy was trapped in her windowless bedroom when Rolling entered.

When I was in J School (Journalism) at UF, I wrote a piece about the murders. But instead of writing what everyone else was writing, I decided to do a followup piece about the apartments. Who’s living in them, Do landlords disclose the histories of the apartments, etc. I began my search by checking out the archived file of this case. They gave me everything that was there. There were pictures that I never looked at. I knew I didn’t want those images seered in my brain for the rest of my life. I poured over the files, which is why I know some details like what checkout lane the girls were in at Wal Mart, and that Rolling found a case of birth control pills at one of the girls’ apartments and was angered by it. I also got the exact addresses and visited each one.

At the first address where Larsen and Powell lived, I stopped by the rental office. The woman there walked me by the apartment, and actually let me in. She told me that after the murders it had been rented by a brother and sister who were in med school. After they moved out, the complex turned the apartment into a model and decided to never rent it out again. Apparently every year, the media showed up and the complex didn’t want to keep explaining why they kept renting it out.

At the address of Tracy and Manny, I simply knocked. A young guy answered the door. I simply asked him if he knew the history of the apartment. He told me he did and that he didn’t care; that the apartment complex didn’t give him any discount but did disclose the apartment’s history. It looked like if he knew the apartment’s history, his girlfriend obviously hadn’t know.; not until I knocked on the door that day.

Perhaps the most chilling was the apartment of Christa Hoyt. I drove by and noticed a for rent sign. I stopped by the office and asked about the apartment. It was vacant, the guy told me. Do you want to see it? “Sure.” I followed behind him, as he searched his keyring for the right key. Moments later, I was standing in the empty, quiet apartment where Christa was terrorized years earlier. “Take your time. Let me know if you have any questions,” the guy said. And he left. I stood in the middle of the quiet, dark livingroom just barelylit by some lonely rays of sunlight peeking through the window. The apartment was dark- dark brown carpet, dark yellow and brown linoleum in the kitchen and bathroom, dark brown cabinets.

I imagined for a moment how she may have had her furniture arranged, and the many days and nights she probably spent cleaning her first little apartment or making dinner in the very kitchen that stood before me. The place was tiny. You could stand in the very middle of the apartment and see the kitchen, livingroom, bedroom and bathroom all in one glimpse.

So there was the bedroom where it happened. I peeked in before I walked in. I stood there, alone in the eery silence and my heart ached. I could only imagine what these walls had witnessed. The very walls that I was now staring at.

I heard a creek and my heart jumped. He was back. I felt a little nervous being there, alone, with this man. But I wasn’t scared at all. I mean, just knowing this place’s history was just so surreal. But I felt safe. He was a little old man with thinning, white hair. I could take him. The only thing was that the reports said that Rolling entered through a sliding glass door. She had walked to a nearby racquetball court that Sunday afternoon, and he watched her through the woods that surrounded the apartments and then later broke in through the sliding glass door.

There was no sliding glass door though.

Maybe this was the wrong apartment, I thought. “How old is this place?” I asked him, nudging him for information without being too obvious. He obviously thought I was commenting on how “70’s” this place looked filled with dark browns. “Well, there used to be a sliding glass door right there.” He pointed to what was now a wall in the bedroom. We closed that in when we did some big renovations about..i dunno…14, 15 years ago? We pulled up the carpet and put this tile in too. It’s held up real well. Other than that, everything is pretty much the same as it had been for 20 or so years. But it’s all in real good shape.”

“Is that all. I mean, is there anything else I need to know about this place?”

“Nope. That’s about it.”

“Okay, I’m going to think about it and let you know.”

“Well, if you like it you better call me soon because the students are crawling all over this place and someone is going to jump on it soon.”

Wow. That was creepy. The murders had happened just about 14 or 15 years earlier. He was telling me, without telling me, that after the murders they had to completely renovate the place. They had to completely rip up the blood soaked carpet and ripped out the sliding glass doors.

And so that was my distant brush with the Gainesville murders. One of my journalism professors showed us a series of video featuring the five and their families speaking. I will never forget one scene: Manny was in a boat with his brother. The sky was smooth and the water was still. In one hand he held a beer and looked right into the camera and said “Now this is living.” Those words always stuck with me.

Today there are five palm trees that line one of the streets close to campus. Every time I pass them, I always remember the girls..and Manny.

Danny Rolling died tonight on death row. My best friend called to tell me, and another girlfriend IM’d me. Ofcourse, I knew it was happening. I just hope it brings some kind of closure to the families.

"Brown power"- Oh come on! How could I resist tha…

“Brown power”- Oh come on! How could I resist that?!

Moving on….

So after the interview incident, I woke up this morning and tried to figure out how I was going to salvage this piece. I scoured the internet looking for backup sources; found a few who couldn’t do it on such short notice. (My deadline is tomorrow.) And just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, I decided to transcribe my interviews for the parenting magazine article. And since this is a national, well known magazine I couldn’t let anything happen to these interviews. I wanted to get them on paper before something crazy (since I was already on a roll) happened.

About two seconds after I hit play, the tape sounded weird. I open it to see it has eaten my tape! I mean, seriously, how many years have I been using this stupid thing and never had any probelms? And now I have two deadlines in a few days and I am having a meltdown.

I slowly unraveled it. My heart was racing. I was pissed. And Eli was screaming. I was seriously about to lose it. The tape, though, wasn’t broken. So I went online to find some sort of tape doctor. He agreed to only charge me $80 an hour. Whatever.

So I took a huge chance and began messing with the tape when I broke a small piece of it off to get the tape rethreaded the right way. I popped it in the tape player and IT WORKED! Right after that, I got really brave and called my lost interview. His secretary gave me his cell and I called him even though I knew he was out of town speaking at a conference. I knew this could go one of three ways. He would be really annoyed with me and be a jerk, he wouldn’t be available, or he would be a perfect gentleman and hopefully not think I was a complete idiot. But I’d rather he think I was an idiot than my editor think it, right?

“Just wanted to clarify some things,” I said. (Sounded better than “I lost your interview, and wasted your time.”)

And I knew I hit gold when he said “You know, I was thinking about our conversation and that thing I said about…..” Sweet. He was retelling me all the stuff I lost. ThankyouGOD! So I got my interview back and managed to save the other ones.

And right as I hung up with him, one of my sources who originally couldn’t speak to me, decided that he would do a phone interview from Uganda. Nice. This guy has an amazing story so I am really happy with this. Although I have to be up way early for this one since they are 7 hours ahead of us. At least hubby is home tomorrow and is on Eli duty.

The lesson I learned: I seriously need to go digital. That, and it never hurts to have a backup.

Kicking myself.

Well yesterday I took Bindi to the vet… It’s a girl! My daughter only felt that was fair after the whole sonogram incident when she found out baby was a boy.

Here is Bindi on my lap. She is so good! She sat in my little zebra purse on my lap and eventually fell asleep. I think Eli could learn a few lessons from kitty.

So yesterday, I had an interview that I had been trying to get. This guy was on his way out of town and I caught him at the last minute. This interview was in-between Eli screaming, and me picking up the kids from school, giving them snacks and settling them in for their homework. After all of that, I rushed into “the office” for the interview. And it went….amazingly.

I only rarely get an interview with someone who gives me great, colorful quotes. These kind of quotes are like gold when it comes to reporting. I was ecstatic. He gave me just what I needed and then more. All of the holes in my article had just come together beautifully. He had filled them for me with his insight and rich quotes. I knew I had it in the bag. I hung up the phone and sighed. I had an extra spring in my step for the rest of the day.

I knew that with that last interview, all I had to do now was to write the article. After the kids were in bed, I sat down to listen to the interview. (I always tape my interviews b/c I find it really hard to focus and write.) And so I sat back just after dinner with a full belly and listened…

I heard me asking my first question and then silence. And then I heard me asking another question followed by a stretch of silence. I felt my face flush and my heart drop. No.No.No. No.No. I had hooked up the recorder wrong. I hooked it up to my phone the wrong way.

I never do this. NEVER. As many interviews as I have had, I have only done this once when I first got my recorder and was just testing it out. Not even a real interview. I sat and just stared at my computer screen and literally cried. Between the baby crying and the kids and the phone ringing and husband calling and everything else…I had somehow hooked up my stuff wrong.

Hubby says “Well that kind of stuff happens.”
I say, “No. I NEVER do this. That would be like me running the kids to school and forgetting to put clothes on. I just wouldn’t do it.”

So I moped for the rest of the night. I laid in bed and made a list of reasons why this could be worse, like:

• It could have been a profile piece and then I would have really been screwed.

• At least this piece wasn’t with the new magazine I am writing for (woo hoo!- a national parenting magazine). I cannot screw up on my first piece.

• I could have really forgotten to put clothes on before taking the kids to school. Hehe.

So lastnight I was kicking myself and today I am saying to myself: “I just can’t wait to see what you do with this one….” (okay, and I am STILL kicking myself.)

Another baby!!!

Yes- you read that right: another baby. Okayokayokay, it’s not a human baby…it’s a baby kitty! I hope I didn’t mislead you by that title. No, not at all, right? Trust me, if we were talking about a human baby, the title would have been more like Oh Shhhhhhhhh crap!!

On Wednesday evening, I was driving home from the gym when I was stopped at a stop light. I just happened to look out my window and saw this tiny little bundle under a little tree- right there out in the open. The tree- more like a little bush- was right outside of this gas station, but on the very edge of the road. “A kitty!” I said to my daughter. We pulled into the gas station so that we were not parked right by all the moving cars when I got out to check on it. I wasn’t sure if it was dead or what.

I walked up to it and said “Hi Kitty.” I really thought that either it would be dead or it would be scared and run away. Instead, the kitty lifted its head, meowed and began to walk towards me. I got an old sweatshirt from the back of my car and scooped up the kitty. Kitty sat quietly in my lap the entire way home. I opened a can of tuna and fed it. S/he scarfed the food down and drank a lot of water. It was so skinny; you could see its little tailbone sticking out.

It was filthy. I bathed it in dishsoap and began looking up vets to 1) Make sure it was okay to have this little creature around the baby and 2) make an appointment to get it checked out.

But there was a little something in my way. His name is hubby. How did I, the animal lover, end up married to hubby, the non-animal lover…I do not know. And how many times since our marriage have I come home with litters of kittens and little puppy dogs I rescued? And when we lived in our last place, I began feeding the stray cats and hubby would get so annoyed because every morning when he would leave for work, who else was there to greet him but my three stray kitties waiting for their breakfast. And they would leave presents sometimes…like little footprints and fur on his car or once, a baby bat on the front doorstep (a gift, I suppose, for feeding them.)

And every time he would say “OOOOHHHH! These animals!”And I would say “They’re God’s creatures. We have to take care of them.”

He didn’t hate them, he just didn’t like them the way I loved them. And so I thought he was going to freak when he came home to a kitty in a box in the bathroom. So I called him first and said “DO NOT FREAK OUT.”

“What?!”
“First, promise that you won’t freak out.”
“Did you wreck the van?”
“No.”
“Are you pregnant?! WHAT WHAT?!”
“I found a kitty.”
“Again?”

He came home and started talking to me about work. And then he said “I don’t care if the cat is here, as long as you get rid of it tomorrow.”(Me frowning.)

“What do you want to do with it?” he asks. “Oh, you want to keep it? Uh uh. We just… (sigh)”
“When we get a bigger house; when we move; when….”

SEX and TEARS

So I had to make him understand that a year ago, I told God that I would not bother my husband with the animal thing anymore, and that He would have to drop an animal in my lap and send me the right one. So when I was driving home with kitty in my lap…well, you know? I felt like he was dropped in my lap. And then hubby said to me “What?! Do you think it is like an angel that dropped from the sky?” “Maybe,” I said smiling.

I explained that I have such a passion for animals that me- an animal lover- not even having a pet in this house is like he- a sex-with-me lover- not being allowed to ever have sex under this roof. And then I pouted, and then I cried some tears. They were real. They were.

I was sad. I wanted kitty.

But I was not going to argue about kitty or ignore hubby’s feelings. I already had that conversation with God. And so hubby went and took a shower and when he stepped out he simply said, “If it means that much to you, you can keep the cat.”

I hugged him and thanked him. And later that night, I thanked him again.

The only really sad part is that as we drove away from the gas station, we saw a black and white kitty- kitty’s sibling I’m sure- on the side of the road, dead. He had been hit by a car. And there was a box laying on its side. I bet somebody left a box of little helpless kittens at the gas station.

Here is kitty sitting on top of my daughter’s “toy” cat carrier she got last year for Christmas. Guess what? It really works and how cute is it? I might get some looks when I walk into the vet’s office with a pink and glitter cat carrier.

PS- Kitty’s name is “Bindi” named after the late Croc Hunter’s favorite Croc.

14 questions.

Lastnight I dreamt.

I dreamt that I was given a notepad. On it I was allowed to write down 14 questions. I was allowed to ask my sister any 14 questions I wished.

I remember that the dream was so vivid. She was wearing a bright blue colored shirt. All I could see was her. There was a white glow around us and so I couldn’t see anything beyond her or me. I asked her the questions. She told me something about the date November 1st. I think she was telling me that something happened on November 1st right before her death. But it is still unclear to me. I wonder if that is when she got sick? But that is still a mystery. And when we were done, I woke up. I was afraid that I would forget the questions and answers.

So I picked up a notepad sitting on my nightstand. I wrote down all of the questions and answers. I was relieved and went back to sleep.

When I woke up this morning, I immediatly remembered my dream. I looked on my nightstand for that notebook and couldn’t find it. You know why I coudn’t find it? Because it never existed. I had dreamt waking up and writing down the questions and answers. It never really happened.

I could remember just one; the very last question I asked her and I remembered her answer too.

Are you in heaven?
Yes; but I haven’t made it to the highest chamber in heaven yet.

That was weird. I had never even heard those words together- heaven and chamber. Never ever. I googled the words heaven and chamber. I found this passage in the Bible:

It is he that buildeth his upper chambers in the heavens, and hath founded his vault upon earth; he that calleth for the waters of the sea, and poureth them out upon the face of the earth; Jehovah is his name.

Another version read this way:
It is he that makes his rooms in heaven…The Lord is His name.

So apparently chambers in this context means rooms. Interesting. The only thing I found about the number 14 in spiritual context, is this:

The simple numbers of 1 through 13 have spiritual significance with their multiples of 2 carrying the same meaning only doubling in intensity. 14 is a multiple of 7, which means completion and perfection.

Here is what I found about the color blue:

The color blue describes the sky, Heaven, and the Holy Spirit.

Deep. It’s too complex to just be a dream, don’t you think? Well I do. I have never even heard the word chambers used outside of a judge’s chambers or a gun’s chamber. So, I don’t know…

Oh, and the only other thing about the number 14, is that she died on the 14th…

The office.

Isn’t it nice and cozy?

So today I had two phone interviews back-to-back; one in England, which meant that because of time differences I only had a specific amount of time to catch this guy. Now here are two interviews that I really need because they are my main sources and my article is due in a few days. I was hoping- no, praying- that Eli’s nap would coincide with my interviews. I was definately going to try to make them as brief as I could.

So I pick the kids up from school and get stuck in the pick-up line for-ev-er. By the time I got home, my interview was in less than 20 minutes and Eli was what else? wide awake and whiny.

I tell the kids, “You have to take care of Eli when I do my interview. I will be in the room with the door closed. DO NOT KNOCK on the door.”

Then I give them a list of do’s and don’ts.
Do: Give him his paci if he starts crying. Don’t: try to change a poopy diaper. You know, this is not a baby free-for-all just because mommy is in the bedroom with her door closed.

When I close my door, the Lion begins to roar. My bedroom door is not working; it is not as soundproof as I had hoped. Baby screaming in the background really sounds professional. And so I pick up my notebook, recorder, phone and pen and my bathroom becomes my office. Two closed doors away and the roars have become a soft echo.

Let’s just make this quick; As I am officially introducing myself to my first interview, I am having visions of me finding Eli in one of Naomi’s babydoll dresses or baby milk all over my carpet or a stinky diaper mess.

Ten minutes later, I have wrapped up my first interview with my main source. Whew, I’m good. Next, I call the guy in England and my phone begins to beep- low battery. What?! Ugh. I just plugged it up lastnight. I obviously need a new battery. But of all times, c’mon!

He is speaking and I am listening for roaring echos. Yep- there they are. That is a good thing, trust me. It means he is being his usual self and that he is still breathing. Yeah, that’s good. I step out of my office and sneak a peek. Yep- just being his normal self: pissed at momma.

Almost 20 minutes into our interview, the phone is on it’s last leg; and Eli may be, too since I haven’t rescued him from being- I dunno..without momma. My heart is pounding. Phone don’t fail me now. I am sitting (not so) comfortably on my chair toilet seat when we finally wrap up the interview and I breathe a sigh of relief.

Got my interviews and Eli is still roaring, still in his white onesie. (No frilly pink baby doll dresses.) I look at the clock. Errrrr…it is time to go to the gym. Well, at least I feel accomplished today. Two interviews AND bosu class.

Bank of America nightmare.

UPDATE: I received a letter today telling me that we have been referred to TELECHECK for writing a bad check. Now , if I try to write another check, my check can be refused based on BOA’s mistake!!! I am calling Telecheck to get this cleared up right now. Hopefully they have better customer service than BOA. It’s a good thing I never lost that apology letter from BOA. Right now, it’s like gold- escpecially since they are telling me the letter was an error. Idiots.

###

This is long. Please try to hang on because I need to hear from you.

This is the letter I have written to Bank of America:

My Bank of America nightmare began when my husband deposited a $3,000 check at the ATM. As soon as he deposited the check, the screen read something like “there MAY be a hold.” So I waited a few days and when I checked our online account, the full amount was IN the “available balance.” And so I began paying my bills and you know, doing silly things like oh..buying food for my family and paying a dentist bill.

Three entire days after I began paying my bills, BOA pulled the money from my account- placing a hold on it. I was immediately in the red.

I initially had ten overdraft fees. I called BOA and received an apology; and told that BOA would remove the hold immediately. The hold was not removed until almost a week later, resulting in three different sets of overdraft fees and three bounced checks. By the way, the check that was being held was from one of the biggest retailers inthe country! It was NOT a personal check.

I was charged a total of $55 for the returned checks. The supervisor I spoke with assured me that BOA would refund my fees and write an apology letter. Although, the apology letter would take a full ten business days to be mailed out.

I rec’d the apology letter, but not the check fees. Enter Felice Reed.

Felice Reed is a BOA CSR out of Richmond, Va. She asked me to explain why I thought they owed me any fees. I explained from start to finish. And she informed me that, no, BOA would not refund these fees. I once again began to explain that I had already been given the okay by a supervisor along with an apology. She began arguing with me. “Let me just explain this to you again,” I said.

And with that, a CLICK. She hung up on me.

Finally, a supervisor called me- a Wallace Frye out of West Virginia. But instead of helping, he pushed me over the edge. He told me that he saw no evidence of any apology letter, and that if I even recieved one, that the apology letter was an error. And so I refuse to do anything else except to mail this letter. I am drained; I am outraged; and I am through with Bank of America.

The following is an excerpt from my conversation with Mr. Frye. Because I could not believe what I was hearing, I decided to (legally) record the rest of the conversation.

(I am in black, he is in blue.)

“I was told that if you were going to “pend” the check, it would have been pending first and then it would have gone through after that, not that you could put it into my account and then many days later, take it back out and you’re telling me that this is normal business practice..that BOA does this?”

“Any financial institution can place a hold at any time after the deposit.”

“After showing me that the funds are available, you can take it back out..at any time without notifying me?”

“Yes ma’am we can.”

“I just want to get this right…because if you guys send me an apology letter apologizing to me, and now I have a supervisor- you- telling me that the apology for the error was an error, I just want to make sure that I get this all right…this is funny.”

“Well I’m sorry you think it’s hilarious,”

“Yeah, what was hilarious was getting three bounced check fees.”

“Then let me ask you another question: Why did you guys reimburse me those ten overdraft fees??”

“Someone felt that it might have been a bank error, but I see no evidence of bank error.”

“No body is on the same page at BOA. I want to know when I am going to get my money back.”

“You’re telling me that the apology letter was an error.”

“I actually see no evidence of you receiving an apology letter.”

“Do you want me to read it to you? I have it right here. Let me get this straight, you are telling me the apology error was a mistake …”

“You’re a supervisor and how are you helping this situation?”

“I’m giving you the correct information.”

“The last person told me they were giving me the correct information, so they told me something different than you told me. How do I know what is correct and what is incorrect? As the consumer, how do I figure out who is telling me the truth if every time I call I’m being told different things.”

“We are sending you a letter. You need to give us proof where you paid a third party those fees and we will reverse this only as a courteousy.”

“Why would you reimburse it if it wasn’t your mistake then?”

“We will only do that as a courteousy. You’re more than welcome to believe whatever you feel is necessary.”

“I’m believing what you guys have told me. What are you talking about?”

“You’re more than welcome to believe it.”

“Was there any further questions?”

“I want to know why you don’t see this apology letter in my file.”

“We don’t keep files like that.”

“Well that might be part of the problem here.”

“Was there any further questions?”

“Yeah, I want to know when I am going to get my money back.”

“When you receive the letter..”

“So now I have to wait for the letter.”

“How long is it going to take once you guys receive my documentation?”

“Within 10 business days.”

“Well how do I get in touch with your supervisor?”

“You don’t.”

And that pretty much ended the phone call that I received on October 15, 2006.

I have dubbed this experience, “The Bank of America Nightmare,” on my blog. Feel free to read for yourself. I’d like to post your response and resolution to this situation.

It is in your hands. Do not ask me to send documentation- as one rep. told me- proving that these fees have been charged to me. You need to do your own homework. I have given you the names and contact information for the three businesses that charged me. You call them and ask what they charge for bounced check fees. You have on file, copies of the checks that bounced (thanks!)

And please do not thank me for being a part of the BOA family again. This is not what family feels like; not to me. I want my $55 back. But please know that it’s not even about the money anymore; it is about how I have been mistreated.

There is definitely a glitch in your system. First I was told it would take 10 business days to receive the apology letter; then 5 business days to process the information; then 10 business days to receive another letter requesting documentation; and now another 10 business days to actually be reimbursed. But to top it off, I am being told that the apology letter for your error- which there is apparently no evidence of- was actually an error. Get it together, BOA.

Please let me know if this is indeed standard policy. If this is truly your policy, I’d like to make other consumers aware of this, and take my business elsewhere.

And according to your own policy:

When are funds available after deposit?

Usually on the first business day after the day we receive your deposit. However, depending on the type and amount of your deposit, we may delay the availability of your funds for up to 11 business days. If we delay the availability of funds, we send you a notice and tell you when the funds will be available. A delay may occur under the following circumstances: You deposit checks totaling more than $5,000 in one day. You re-deposit a check that has been returned unpaid. We believe a check you deposit won’t be paid. You’ve overdrawn your account repeatedly in the last six months. There is an emergency such as an equipment failure.

Really: you thought a check from one of the country’s biggest retailers would be unpaid? Or was it one of the other reasons? None of these fit this situation, and I was not even notified.

What do you think about these laws?

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So, to all of my readers, even the ones who never comment..I want to hear from you.

I was told that this is a normal banking practice and that the bank can pull money from your account after it has already been in your “available balance” for awhile without even notifying you. How could we ever know that we were writing goods checks if this was the case? Who would ever trust a bank if this was normal procedure?

Please let me know:

HAS ANY BANK EVER DONE THIS TO YOU? DO YOU BUY THAT THIS IS A STANDARD BANKING PROCEDURE? WHAT WOULD YOU DO? PLEASE, IF YOU THINK I AM WRONG, LET ME KNOW. I have no problem being wrong; I do, however, have a problem with being screwed around with.

I need ALL OF your comments because BOA will receive this link and I want them to hear from more than just me.

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