A couple job changes ago, I made the unfortunate mistake of not watching my 401K. This happened just before the market tanked and like many people, my portfolio reduced itself like a bulimic model on Atkins. After make a mental note to take care of this, forgetting to do so, making another mental note, repeat a few times, I decided to pay someone else to watch my money. One of the people I train for marathons with actually does this for a living. I won't mention the company name because for the most part, Fred has done a fantastic job of securing my investments and making me money, although really, there wasn't anywhere else to go but up.
However, when it comes to dealing with paperwork, his crew is a giant FAIL.
Issue 1: My benefactor's social security number. He and his assistant were adamant that I provide the SS# for the person who, in the event of my unfortunate demise, would get my money (less their processing fees, I'm sure).
I could have taken the path of least resistance and asked my mom for her SS#, but I was feeling like quite the Dark Angel that day, so I asked a question of the admin, the exchange went something like this:
Me: So can I make anyone I want my benefactor?
Admin: yes, I just need their social.
Me: anyone at all, even if they are not a relative?
Admin: of course. Who did you have in mind?
Me: How about Tony Blair, former prime minister of Great Britain...what do you think his American instituted savings plan social security number is?
Admin: [deer in headlights look] uh....
Me: I'm guessing the geeks in Benefits at Edward Jones Corporate push you to get socials because it makes their life easier, but I'm guessing there are procedures for beneficiaries that don't have social security numbers.
Issue 2: last time I checked, it was the 21st century and there was a big todo about saving the planet. Yet I get constant paper mailings for every transaction, update, etc involving my account. I went to the website,logged onto my account and opted for paperless everything.
I still get paper mailings. On my last visit to their office, I asked, begged, pleaded with Fred's new assistant (I guess I broke the old one) for paperless everything. She assured me that it was taken care of...yet I still get paper mailings.
Issue 3: I decided to take my savings account that was earning me a whopping $12 a year in interest and buy some savings bonds which would bring in more yield. Fred raved about how our mutual friend is doing this and she loves getting a check every few months, especially now that she is underemployed. I said sign me up. He kept boosting about how I'll get a check. So I didn't think to explicitly ask "when I would see that check!"
Fred backpedaled and said that since I didn't ask for one, he assumed it would go into the new account he opened for me -- which comes with another layer of paper generation. I said I wanted the interest check to put some of the money back into my now depleted savings account in case of an emergency.
Fred suggests we do a direct deposit to avoid having to request a check from corporate, which is all the way in St Louis and couldn't possibly get it to big bad Chicago for 5 days as it would arrive via horse drawn carriage (what did you think the Budweiser Clydesdales day job was?).
Naturally I had to fill out more paperwork. First, the phone call from the Admin. She asked me the account number I wanted the deposit made to and the routing number, which I was able to look up electronically using this thing called My Bank's Website. Then she printed the form and faxed it to me, adding that she couldn't print the form before inputing the routing number because the software doesn't let her print blank forms. Brilliant!
I get the fax from her and after filling it out, I send it to the fax number she provided. It is their office number main line! I look at one of the 7846 business cards that Fred has sent me over the year and none have his fax number on it. His corporate website has a listing for each account manager but no fax number. I decide that I'm done playing and put the form in an envelope and mail it to them. I figure I'm in downtown Chicago, they are in downtown Chicago, the Post Office will get it there by tomorrow and Fred will hear about this and wonder what happened.
A week later I get a letter with a check that I have to deposit into my account.
So the other night I squeeze into the only available parking space on my block. On the plus side, it was in front of my building, but on the down side it was an extremely tight fit. However, with some patience and mad skills, I managed to get into the spot without even tapping either vehicle in front of me. The car in front of me was lined up right behind the Tow Zone sign so there wasn't much leeway there. But the vehicle behind me -- which i recognized as my condo secretary's PT Cruiser -- seemed like it was trying to save two spots with one car.
I have no emperical proof of this, but it is a semi-common practice in my hood. Call it the all-season's dibs. I once saw a guy park his car on an almost empty street yet position it in a way that it wasted the space in front and back. I asked him if he was aware of how he was parking and he said "yeah, I'm saving a spot for my wife who gets home after 10 [pm]." It was 6:30pm. He explained, unsolicited, that he was puerto rican and therefore a citizen who pays his taxes and is entitled to a parking space. But the really kicker was that he pointed out which house was his on the block and, when I checked it out later, found that he has a 3 car garage, which he probably rents out for extra cash. God bless America.
Anyway, back to the present. I happened to look out my window and see my neighbor and his wife do a car swap. They moved their PT Cruiser and replaced it with their mini-van. I thought, "perfect, now I should have more room when he gets done parking." That was a premature thought because I checked a few minutes later to discover the buttmunch parked as close to my car as possible, leaving 5 ft behind his mini-van. Maybe he thought the car behind him would leave. The old guy who owns that car usually only moves it for street cleaning purposes but maybe, just maybe, at 10:45pm, he would suddenly decide he needs to satisify his crave and hit the ole White Castle or something.
I thought about knocking on his door and politely asking, "WTF were you thinking?", but no good would come of it. Buttmunch didn't have time to do a good job of parking because he had to hurry up and get to our common deck and start sending up a lot of second hand cigarette smoke toward my open windows. I'll just have to hope that I'm not in a hurry to get to work tomorrow and ding his car while trying to get out of the tight spot.
