Stickin it to da man

A few months ago, I checked out my husband's credit report through the glory that is annualcreditreport.com (try it! you'll like it!) and was horrified to discover that he probably could not qualify for an auto loan at Joe's Crappy Car Emporium, home of the we-say-yes-to-everyone car loans at only 24% APR! His credit was a bad math SAT score or a really good but still possible batting average. Further investigation revealed that one of my stepkids' doctors offices had been sending bills to my husband in his name, but at his ex-wife's address. Bills he never authorized, for accounts on which he was not the guarantor, and (again) at an address where he does not receive mail. FIVE of them had gone to collections and been reported to the credit reporting agencies by the time we discovered the depths of the problem.

I took a deep breath - this was just a mistake, and surely the billing people would want to resolve their mistake so they could get paid, right? Oh, stop laughing. I was thinking the best of people, I promise not to do it again. One zillion phone calls later (and that's only a slight exagerration), we finally wised up and started complaining in writing. Except wisdom got us nowhere, and we never received any acknowledgment of our complaints, and every time we called we had to start over from scratch. To make things more complicated, the turnover at this billing department is insane, and literally every time I called, I got yet another new person in her first week on the job. I was starting to have to inform these clerks of their own policies.

I finally turned to my crisis resolution center, Google. What did people do before Google? I can imagine life without indoor plumbing or central heat or (god knows) functioning transportation, but no instant-gratification-provider-of-knowledge-of-questionable-reliability? I love me some Google. And did Google come through for me - it turned me on to Credit Boards, a collection of credit information and experienced credit fighters who volunteer huge amounts of time to help visitors with their credit problems. I learned about the Fair Credit Reporting Act and the relevant portions of HIPAA. I suckered some poor account supervisor at the health care provider into giving me her email address, and I started emailing her. Often. With thinly veiled threats of legal action. She loves me, I assure you.

Today, I received notification from my poor harassed buddy at the health care provider that they have sent a request to the credit bureaus to have the erroneous entries removed from my husband's report. I feel like I just ran a marathon or won an election for public office or some other life changing and incredibly unlikely accomplishment. I won't feel completely better until the entries are gone, and they said it could be up to 45 days, but it's progress, and I'll take progress.

Especially since my van is a big, fat, stupid paperweight again, sitting in my driveway unwilling to start, and too close to the house to light on fire.