The slow-motion train wreck
It’s been a long, long time since my last post. Who cares. I’m the only one reading this anyway. That being said, I’ll justify continuing the monologue by saying it’s my epitaph. The epitaph of my career to this point. The epitaph of many, many hopes, dreams and aspirations. The epitaph of a whole lot of money.
So who’s killing me, you ask? Of course, the big, mean, old (new federally sponsored) bank. When the federal government started gunning for the middle class, HE hired a desperate and well disguised hit man, your bank.
As you well know, I am a co-owner of a small residential home building company in small town USA. As a mom-and-pop operation, we sunk our savings, all of our earnings, our IRA’s, our parents money etc., into the construction of exquisite, top of the line, green built, energy efficient homes for the well healed. It seemed like a safe bet at the time. Silly us.
We are now caught in the same net most people in our town, and probably country, are caught in. No income, drastically depleted savings and a law suit from the lender on the spec home. AND THEY WANT BLOOD.
Your friendly “Home Town Bank”, the “incredibly secure, FDIC insured bank” slapped us with a judicial foreclosure when we had never missed a payment and had paid them a whopping $70K + in interest over the term of the loan. When speaking with the CFO of this bank during what I considered a friendly negotiation on the interest rate, he said of his recent purchase of a colleagues home (a home that the owner had lost hundreds of thousands of dollars on), that he had paid too much (he didn’t).
We’ve had one offer on the home in question in the two years we’ve tried to sell it. (The home is very nice, top of the line, the buyers evaporated when the market rolled in “08). It was from a gentleman (I use the word loosely) who prefaced his “conversation” with my husband with “Don’t you know who I am?!” After going back and forth trying to decide if there was enough blood on our end to actually go through with his purchase, he pulled the plug on the deal, but not before unhinging the settlement deal we had with the lender on the home.
So what’s the point, you ask? SCUM. We are surrounded by scum. The bank is scum. Any buyer is scum. I have to say, I am not scum. I’ve paid full bore the whole way and I haven’t asked for special favors from anyone. I’ve upheld my end of the deal and now I’m faced with THE situation. Surrounded by scum. Scum with their hands out.
So, do you know what I’m going to do? Go bankrupt. Yup. I own my cars outright and pay my credit card in full every month. I pay cash for everything. And because of this debacle, I am going bankrupt at 43 years old.
Just spoke with my neighbor. He walked away from his home recently. He’s renting in the same neighborhood for a fraction of the cost. This man, who, at one time, proudly walked me through his lovely, custom home that he has $1.4 million into, was eagerly awaiting the foreclosure date so that the worry and headache would be over. He was bitter and angry, but as a man in his late fifties, what was he to do?
The other neighbor was there. I’m working on a short sale of his home, purchased for $1.1 million. I need to find a rental for him and his lovely, young family. Fortunately, they have a few years to retirement and their bright, talented and hungry. They’ll be fine.
Some others, I’m not so sure about.
This is a tragic, fucked up mess. Anyone who doesn’t think so or hasn’t been touched by it can go to hell. These are, we are good, honest, hard working people. This was done TO us. If you want an argument, bring it on. I’ll go toe to toe on that point.
I wrote to Obama. I explained my situation and the frustration and disappointment I felt. I have yet to hear back.
