Dear Sallie Mae,
I would like to take this time to thank you for showing me my first taste of corruption. Apparently, two years ago, when I was a junior in college and couldn’t give a fuck less about where I was getting the money to pay my college tuition, I applied for a private loan through you. I would also like to take a few moments out of my day to tell you, and any other poor souls looking for ways to afford college, how much of a mistake that was.
As a college student, I couldn’t care less about where my tuition money came from. That, I will admit, was my bad. But, at 20 years old, I wasn’t looking as far into my future as I am now. There. I just took five percent of the blame from you, but that is all I am willing to take. Today, as a 23 year old unemployed postgrad who is taking care of her grandfather post-stroke and no longer in the grace period, I care. I care a lot.
I would like to go into forbearance on my loan, because I don’t plan on being unemployed too much longer. If you ever wanted to go into forbearance for a private loan, let me tell you how much of a joke that’s going to be. Sallie Mae bills you $50 a month. They also require you to pay, for private loans, a $50 fee if you would like to go into “forbearance,” as described by Sallie Mae as TWO MONTHS. Here’s the fucking deal, Sallie Mae:
1. Don’t you think if I had the $50 in the first place to give to you for any reason, that I would just pay the goddamn bill?
2. Which college-educated person do you think is dumb enough to continuously pay $50 every two months to go into even more debt through interest rates and other shit fees you decide to throw in for funsies.
Call them, I dare you. Long story short, you’re going to be greeted on the phone with someone who sounds like they failed to complete the fifth grade. You will proceed to volley around the fact that you are unemployed yet still owe them money, regardless if you have it or not. I get that you’d like to be paid. But, Sallie Mae will fail to work with you on anything, even though by going into forbearance they will eventually get even more money out of me, anyway. They won’t add the $50 to a later bill, they won’t add money to anything you owe them, but they will somehow manage to find the balls and the right to scold you.
You will get angry rather quickly. They will put you on the phone with their manager, who will then continue to do the same exact thing, except with more authority. The manager will tell you her life story, complete with two heart attacks and a mortgage. And they will also say the words, “I don’t care.”
So, here’s what’s up, Sallie Mae: I don’t care, either.
I don’t care about your heart attacks. I don’t care about your mortgages. I don’t care that I owe you money. I don’t care what your forbearance rules are. I don’t care that you call me a thousand times a day. Because here’s the difference between you and me: you were AT YOUR JOB when you found the nerve to tell me that you don’t care and I was at home helping my unable grandfather take a sip of water.
You should feel ashamed of yourself.
You aren’t getting paid, motherfuckers. No, no–not today.
I would rather sell my conservative, GOP-voting, right wing, NRA-supporting body on the streets of the Democratic National Convention than ever sign a loan with you again. I would rather be trapped in a closet with R. Kelly pissing down my leg for the entirety of the “Trapped in the Closet” series than ever let you see my signature again. I would rather suck Obama’s dick dressed as Monica Lewinsky in a pantsuit than give you a penny of what I owe. And when the shit economy, full of its unemployed postgrads just like me, finally gets to you, I will dance on your grave like a blackout slut at Mardi Gras.
So go ahead and tell countless others of *your* heart attacks and *your* mortgages and *your* problems. Go ahead and make up the world’s most ridiculous rules. Go ahead and call me a thousand times a day. Because each time you call me, it just gives me another chance to answer and say, “Fuck. You.”
Die, Sallie Mae. In a fire. Today. And rot in Hell.
Moral of the story, Sallie Mae: the next time you’d like to rear your ugly, unprofessional, and unethical head, make sure it isn’t to someone who writes for the Internet.