financial exorcism via telephone

So, the other night my dad called me to say Elevations Credit Union had left two messages for me on his answering machine. I haven't lived with my dad for years, mind you. However, Elevations was my bank when I was slogging through undergrad in Colorado, so I assumed they were hoping I'd donate some of my massive monetary reserves to CU's coffers. Hah.

But they had called twice, and to get them off my poor father's back, I called them yesterday after class.

"Well, it seems this is about your car loan," the woman said, looking at my account.

I've never had a car loan. I don't own a car currently and I've never owned a car that would merit one. I did however, in a moment of weakness, co-sign on my boyfriend's car when we were living in Boulder. I told this to the nice lady.

Apparently, my ex (let's call him Craig) recently sent in his last car payment. Congratulations, Craig! Unfortunately, he sent in a check for less than the total amount owed.

I broke up with Craig after moving back to Minneapolis, when certain late-breaking news was revealed about our relationship, but we remained friends for a time. Later, Craig and I had a falling out which culminated in activities such as me not answering my apartment door unless I was expecting someone and being summarily ejected from several friends' parties at Craig's request.

Now that we live in different states, however, I'd put this all behind me. But, not surprisingly, I had erased Craig's number from my phone and thus could not help out the nice credit union lady. The two of us mulled over it for a second. Then, in a classic display of bill collector logic, she came up with a solution.

"Wouldn't it be easier if you just paid off the balance?" she asked.

For a moment, I balked.

Then she continued: "It's only two dollars and fifty cents."

I did the math, Mastercard style:

2001 Mitsubishi Gallant: $2.50
Cutting financial ties with both Craig and Elevations Credit Union: priceless.

So, in a few weeks I should be receiving the title for a car which cost me less than a latte. All I can say is that everyone's lucky that I've become less vindictive in my old age.