Ode to Creditors

Add or delete lines to personalize.  Simply replace the underlined words in the heading with the appropriate lender(s) of your choice.

Dear Sallie Mae:

First off, please understand that this letter comes from a place of love.  Love for my sanity, general well-being, and the very education that you helped fund.  Secondly, why you possess a sweet, wholesome name that would behoove the classiest of southern belles is beyond my comprehension.  You should be whipping up pecan pies instead of dishing out stress to countless individuals.  But I digress.

I know I owe you money.  I haven’t forgotten.  You won’t let me, after all, what with your incessant calls.  You wake me up at ungodly hours with recorded messages that butcher my name.  You’re the sole voice that keeps my answering machine company, as evidenced by the string of afternoon calls and the few that come around dinner time.  Nothing has changed, by the way, in the five minutes since last you rang.   Know that if you were a man, I’d have a restraining order on your ass faster than you can say “Chris Brown.”  Oh, and bonus points for reaching me via actual mail.  Killing a shit-ton of trees to update me on the status of my account?  Priceless.

I feel that our relationship, troubled as it may be, is unnecessarily complicated.  Maybe I wouldn’t be as frustrated if you’d quit harassing me.   I’d knock off a few rings in the annoyance category if you made it easier for me to speak to another human being to straighten out my affairs.  Or, if you had any real grace when it comes to deferment and provided payment plans that take into account my actual salary (I’m unemployed, by the way).

We both know that I owe you an insane amount of money that I will never be able to pay back in my lifetime – unless, of course, I win the lottery or marry Bill Gates’ black cousin.  I’m aware that I may be confusing you with other creditors I owe money to.  But it doesn’t really matter because it’s all monopoly money to me at this point.

So, rather than getting more worked up about our not-so-friendly rapport, I’m simply choosing to ignore your existence.  That’s right.  I’m breaking up with you.  Feel free to tell your friends that you were the one to call it off.  I won’t take it personally.  But I will always have your number.  No need to call, write or show up unannounced at my doorstep.  When I’m ready, you will get paid.  But not yet … not yet.

Forever in your debt,
NJ

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