Countrywide To Homeowner (me): You're Out Of Luck

I just got off the phone with a "home retention" representative for Countrywide, the company that holds the 30-year fixed mortgage that my wife and I took out on our house in 2004. It was, to say the least, a frustrating conversation.

The goal of my call was to find out what, if anything, is available to help people (like my family) who have never missed a mortgage payment but whose financial circumstance has shifted so dramatically that making those payments over the coming months will become much more difficult, if not impossible.

I explained that I lost my job in July and, even though we haven't missed any payments, our income has been essentially cut in half and a once-affordable mortgage has, for the time being, become unaffordable. After I explained our circumstance, Lori the Countrywide Phone Drone (CPD) told me in clipped tones that there is no program of aid available for customers whose mortgages are current.

I then told her we're trying to make sure that the mortgage stays current, something that might be impossible with our family income slashed by more than half after my layoff eight months ago. Was there really nothing to be done? Then why do we receive almost daily emails and snail mails from Countrywide inviting us to call and find out what can be done to make the mortgage payment easier to meet? Is all of that just marketing BS and meaningless advertising?

Again, she told me I was basically out of luck.

I asked her if I would be better off, in terms of finding help from Countrywide, if we had missed a few payments. She told me there was no guarantee I would be helped if payments were missed.

Then, helpful soul that I am, I told her that it might be a good idea (and maybe even good for her career) if she were to tell her superiors at Countrywide about our story. I told her I'd be willing to bet there are millions of Countrywide customers in similar circumstances, people who were good customers but had lost their jobs and were in danger of falling behind on payments, and that many millions more were coming down the tracks with all the job loss the nation is suffering now. I told her that if Countrywide was smart, it would do something to help those customers. Otherwise, Countrywide might find itself on the figurative fiscal breadline with other failed financial institutions.

What could they do? Here's one solution:

Create a program that allows good, responsible customers who want to pay their mortgage the opportunity to pay interest only for a year. That would essentially cut the payment by one-third (leaving a substantial monthly escrow payment and whatever the interest would be). In our case, it would save us about $500 a month for a year, giving us a little more breathing room while I continue to search for work. Once the customer's situation improved, or at the end of the year-long suspension of principle payments, the mortgage payment would revert to its previous level.

I tell you what else. The CPD I spoke with could use an attitude adjustment. I was cordial and calm throughout the conversation. She had my payment record in front of her, so she knew she was talking to a responsible customer, someone who ABSOLUTELY WANTS TO DO THE RIGHT THING, but she was rude and short from start to finish. I signed off by informing her, in the pleasantest of voices, that she had been no help whatsoever.

Look, I'm not asking for a handout. I'm asking for help from a mortgage company to prevent yet another mortgage from becoming a "toxic asset." I'm asking for breathing room while my family adjusts to its new financial situation. I'm asking for time to find a job, at which point we'll gladly pay the mortgage as it's written. I'm asking for common sense from a company with everything to lose if the millions of others in my situation suddenly can't make their payments.

I'm asking myself whether there is a solution at all, especially with people like Lori the Countrywide Phone Drone (and the mindless corporation she represents) holding the keys.

Cut The Crap, Geithner

Treasury Secretary Timothy Geithner was as uninspiring as a pile of dead leaves and as informative as a homeowners association newsletter. I know very little about the machinations of macroeconomics, but somehow I know even less today than I knew before Geithner's disastrous "unveiling" of the Obama administration's plan for the remaining $350 billion of TARP money.

I, like Joe Scarborough, Chris Matthews, Rachel Maddow and the rest of MSNBC's talking heads, am left feeling a bit disgruntled with our economic leaders. These are the people who are supposed to get us out of this mess? Well then, good luck to all of us.

Contrast Geithner's pathetic performance with Obama's in Fort Myers on Monday. He is a communicator of the highest order. He exudes confidence. He oozes empathy. When he walked over and kissed the homeless woman who asked, "Please help," Obama struck exactly the right emotional tone.

Very nice. Very touching. But . . .

I still have many, many questions. As an accomplished professional sports journalist who has been out of work since July, I have yet to see any real progress. Quite the opposite, in fact. It's more difficult today to get a job than it was six months ago. Six months from now, it will probably be more difficult still.

My family is quintessentially middle class. The difference between us and most? We aren't saddled with thousands of dollars of credit card debt. With help from generous relatives, we have done things the right way.

We didn't overspend on our house, and we financed it with a 30-year, fixed-rate mortgage. We did get a second mortgage, but we used that money to pay off both of our cars and what credit card debt we had remaining. We hardly ever use credit cards, and when we do, we pay them off as quickly as possible. We don't spend to excess, but we do pay all of our bills on time -- including the first and second mortgages.

I'm looking for work. I've found that I'm utterly unqualified for the few jobs that actually are available, and all this talk of millions of new "green" jobs seems geared toward people who already have degrees in ecology or environmental engineering. I always thought I'd be able to work at a book store or somewhere similar if things got really rough, but that option won't be there now, either. I'm trying to write fiction, but trying to make a living doing that is like trying to make a living playing the lottery, even in the best of times.

These are not the best of times.

We are the face of these times. My wife and I worked hard to build our careers. We proved ourselves competent in our work. We had a nice, steady income and a nice home in a clean, safe neighborhood. We thought we had prepared the way for our two young sons to grow up happy, healthy and with the promise of a better life than Beth and I have had. Now? Because of matters that seemed to have been beyond our control, we've had to cash in my retirement fund and hope something ... anything ... comes along for me before that money runs out.

I wish President Obama and Timothy Geithner could hear my story. Then again, would it even register? Obama has spoken glowingly of his devotion to the middle class. Well, here we are, Mr. President. Struggling to survive. Worried about the future. Still willing to do things the right way, but unsure anymore if that will be enough.

So, cut the crap, Geithner. Quit approaching your job like some wide-eyed doctoral candidate who thinks he can scrape by with vague generalities and high-sounding diction.

For God's sake, DO something.

Make 'em take lie detector tests

I wrote this almost three years ago, but it's just as relevant today. Especially in light of the Alex Rodriguez admission of steroid use.

Want to know who's using? Hook 'em all up to a polygraph.
Want to know who's lying? Strap 'em all to a lie detector.
If Major League Baseball wants to clean up its act, there's a way. It might be flawed, but even the result of a scientifically debatable polygraph is better than having to take these guys at their word ever again.
If the notoriously overprotective players union wants to clear the collective name of its constituency, it will voluntarily waive the players' right to hide behind the Employee Polygraph Protection Act of 1988, which states (in part):
"An employer engaged in commerce ... cannot, in any manner or for any reason, have an employee or prospective employee submit to a polygraph test."
Give up that right, and make a show of it. Bring everything into the light. Right now.
Do it before any more IRS investigators break down the door of [name redacted] or that other suspected steroid/HGH user, [name redacted].
Want the scandal to go away? Forget about financing a virtually hopeless study at UCLA in a quest for a urine test that reliably detects human growth hormone (a substance that is extremely difficult to detect even in a blood test).
Work out a deal with the American Polygraph Association - whose business is truth, a strong dose of which baseball could use - and set up an independent board to administer, monitor and analyze the results.
Do it every year, to major-leaguers and to minor-leaguers. Make it a standard part of reporting to spring training, an annual ritual, like the preseason physical or daily pitchers fielding practice.
Pop the polygraph on 'em at random times during the season. Keep 'em on their toes.
Make every result public. Players who admit during the test to having used performance-enhancing substances should receive reduced penalties, an acknowledgment that for once, they told the truth.
Players who lie about it should be fined, suspended and prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.
They have done this to themselves. Jason Grimsley has done it to himself. But it's not only Grimsley, or the six names redacted from the now-infamous affidavit that brought to light the most celebrated IRS investigation this side of Al Capone.
It's Grimsley, it's the six blacked-out names he named, it's every name of every player of every organization for the past 15 years - and maybe before. That includes this year, Year Two of MLB's supposedly tough-as-nails but really soft-as-cotton policy governing the use of performance enhancers.
They're all under the same blanket now, the blanket of suspicion. No one is above it.
Is that fair?
Not to the players who have spent their careers legally squeezing every ounce of ability out of their unenhanced bodies and minds. Fair or not, it is what the current culture of baseball dictates.
Speculation. Whispers. Suspicion.
Who now can watch a pitcher throw 98 mph and not wonder? Who now can watch a batter slug a baseball 450 feet and not suspect?
Want to know for sure? Read the printout after the polygraph. Those jagged lines don't lie.
Not that it will ever happen. For one thing, as reliable as polygraphs are, there always is that element of uncertainty - just as there are Web sites selling synthetic HGH, there are Web sites out there that teach you how to beat a lie detector.
Besides, union leader Don Fehr fought tooth and nail against steroid testing, on the grounds that testing "without cause" would violate the players' civil rights. To think that he would submit to a solution as admittedly drastic as across-the-board lie detector tests is ludicrous.
Nor would Commissioner Bud Selig ever stoop to such draconian methods.
So, what? Believe [name redacted] when he says he's clean? Take it on faith that the same players who pass the toothless MLB drug test aren't using something else?
That's hard to do now. And maybe it always will be.