by Jacob Davies
You can tell from the first sentence that this story isn't going to end well:
Timothy McCollough freely admits that he stopped making payments on his Chase Manhattan credit card in 1999. He says he did not have the means to pay after he was disabled by a head injury that cost him his job.
The nice thing about the passage of time is that, eventually, all that stuff you did - you know what I'm talking about - gets to just be something that happened a long time ago that nobody cares about any more.
In 2007, he was sued a second time over the debt, and this time the suit contended that he owed significantly more: $3,816 in credit card debt, plus $5,536 in interest and $481 in legal fees. As he did the first time, Mr. McCollough sent a handwritten note to the court explaining that the statute of limitations on the debt had passed... [C]ollectors are not supposed to file lawsuits to pursue out-of-statute debt, some consumer lawyers say it happens routinely.
Well, maybe not. But at least there's some good news for bank shareholders, who are recovering significant amounts of money from losses written-off long ago:
[On an] $8 million portfolio of Bank of America credit card accounts...the expected asking price is $16,000, or two-tenths of a cent for every dollar owed.
Oh. There's something unseemly about that: like a banker in a fine suit, groveling in the dirt for a dropped penny. Someone at Bank of America is paid a good salary to do this. If I was that person - or that person's boss - I'd find this story rather embarrassing. But then, I don't work in banking.