“NOBODY likes debt collectors.” When I read this opening sentence in the New York Times article “A Debt Collector’s Day”, I was intrigued and somewhat annoyed at the constant stereotype I see in my industry. Yes, my industry. Being the daughter of an agency owner and growing up in the back room, sorting checks and filing statements for allowance money, I quickly learned the ins and outs of the collections world.
When I came across this article, I was drawn by the thought of someone understanding what it’s like to be a debt collector, however, I quickly realized that there is a huge part of the industry missing in this editorial. So what does a debt collector’s day really look like? Since this question was left unanswered at the end of the New York Times article, I thought I’d help explain. My day starts like everyone else’s, an alarm. Blaring and buzzing much earlier than I would like, forcing me up and out of bed. As a woman, I think it is ingrained to take care of everyone else before yourself. For me this means I am outside walking and feeding my dogs before I ever start getting ready for the day. For some of my coworkers, it means waking and feeding the tiny humans and getting them ready first. When my pups are happy, I can finally start my morning routine of stepping on dog bones, poking myself in the eye with my mascara wand, and burning my hand on my curling iron.
My drive to work is just as ordinary. Break lights, middle fingers, and loud honks help wake me up on my commute. When I arrive two minutes late, thankfully within the 5 minute grace period, the coffee is already gone and I drowsily make a new pot. My phone is already ringing when I get to my desk and when I answer, I hear a “F@#% you, you stupid b@$#&” and then a disconnect tone. Thankfully, my job has helped me develop a tough skin so this outburst does not bother me. My next call is much smoother. The voice of a middle-aged woman is on the other end.
“Hi, I received a letter from you and I was wondering what this was about,” the woman says.
In a few seconds I have her account pulled up on my screen and I am logging into my client’s system to pull as much information as I can so I am informed of her situation. After verifying I have the correct person I explain the medical bill to the caller. “I have insurance, so I will need to check with them about this,” she states matter of factly.
“I understand completely, let me give you the information you will need in order to talk with them,” I offer, giving her the balance and date of service. “Also, I do see a large insurance payment on file. It looks like there is a balance because your deductible hadn’t been met yet for the year.”
After giving the woman all the information she requested and confirming with her the validity of the debt, she agreed this must have been an oversight and she set up her payment.
“Thank you so much, I was so nervous to call in to a collection agency,” she tells me. “You were so helpful. Thank you again!”
See, not all agencies are money-hungry “debt buyers” as described in the New York Times. Some are extended billing offices and credit reporting agencies that work directly with clients to recover past due balances. The amount of times I am thanked by a consumer is considerably more than the times I am cursed at by one.
The debt collector stigma comes from unhappy consumers. However, no one thinks of the small business owner who is considering bankruptcy because too many clients haven’t paid them for their services. Or the small medical practice writing off tens of thousands of dollars each year because patients aren’t paying their deductibles. Or the large hospitals claiming millions in bad debt. Our job as debt collectors is to mediate between clients and consumers, finding ways to make both happy by collecting money for our client while also understanding the hardships of the consumer and treating them with kindness and compassion.
This is why I love my job. I get to help people every day in an unexpected and unrecognized way. As my day continues, I keep answering my phone and making calls trying to meet my call requirements by the end of the day. I zone out, just like everyone else. I go over my grocery list in my head when I should be dialing the phone and I picture myself on a balcony in Paris as I dream of my next vacation. I sometimes stay late to accommodate the schedule of a consumer I spoke with earlier in the day and sometimes I am walking out the door as the clock hits 5:30, end of the day.
I make my way through traffic again as I run some quick errands before I head home. At the grocery store I push my cart, full of whatever the new fad diet requires, and I engage in small talk with the woman checking me out. She asks me what I do for a living and I tell her, “I’m a debt collector.”
“Oh, so you’re the bad guy.” I smile at her and the repetitiveness of the phrase I’ve heard my whole life. But once again, not the bad guy.
