Give Me Some Credit

As the one-year anniversary of my husband's death approaches in less than two months, the bureaucratic red tape becomes both less frequent and more complicated. I've managed switching over many of the family's financials into my name, including the utilities, mortgage, bank accounts, trash collection services, car and health insurance, and car titles and registrations. But one of the last companies that I planned to inform of his death was our shared credit card company. I knew that once I did, I would be in financial limbo for a short-time as I closed the existing card and applied for (and hopefully received) a credit card in my name only. 

I had done some research first (because of course I did; that's what I do) and learned that you can't simply take the primary cardholder's name off the account and put the card in the name of the secondary cardholder; you have to close the account and re-apply for a new card in your own name. It makes sense when you think about it: We had received the original card based on our financial situation as a couple, taking into account our entire household income, which at the time included both of our full-time salaries as well as our investment income. That number was significantly larger than my current household income, which includes zero salary, only the family's Social Security and my personal investment income. 

Another complicating factor of closing a credit card is that so many payments and stores are set up to charge that card directly, so they all need to be notified of the updated information once the new card is received. So not only did I need to have a list of everyone who charges that card regularly (the monthly payments are relatively easy to track, the annual fees are a little trickier), but I needed to make sure that no charges would hit that card in the possibly two-week period between closing the old card and receiving the new card. 

In my typical anxious fashion, I found this process terrifying. I have a "worst-case scenario" kind of brain, which means I had to think through what I would do if I was denied credit, or given a low credit limit, or if my credit score crashed, or if there was some creditor that I didn't know about and hadn't provided with my contact information so something would go unpaid and I wouldn't know because they'd be emailing or texting my husband's account instead of mine. Logically, I knew there was very little chance of any of these things happening - and even less chance of some insurmountable complication if it did - and yet my anxiety kept telling me I had to have all my ducks in a row before I made the call, just in case. 

I put it off for weeks (okay, months), but finally it was time. I Googled "how to notify Capital One of the death of a cardholder" and foolishly accepted the default AI answer and phone number, which of course sent me to the wrong department. Fortunately, the representative I spoke with was kind and helpful and made sure I had the correct number before transferring my call. The next representative was equally kind and helpful, and patiently walked me through the process, answering all my questions, reassuring me that they would notify me of any outstanding charges on the old card and credit me with any accrued perks, my new application would be processed quickly, and that I would receive a virtual card within 24 hours, even before I received my physical card in the mail. 

The credit card application was shockingly simple, requiring exactly zero documentation of my income ("How much money do you make? OK, we'll take your word for it.") and minimal identification (a photo of my driver's license). I had to choose the type of card I wanted, with various interest rates ("Low interest for the first six months! Then it goes up to 30% for the rest of your life!") and perks ("Earn cash back! Accrue points that can be redeemed at certain stores! Earn flight discounts and hotel upgrades!"). Click, click, submit. Within minutes, I was approved, and within hours, I received a welcome email inviting me to download their app and get my virtual card. 

I had realized when I was changing over our bank accounts that I was eligible for free monthly checks of my credit score, so I logged on, took a deep breath, and looked up my score to see how much it had plummeted. We, as a couple, had had an outstanding credit score, and there was nothing in my personal history that should have lowered it, other than a lower salary history and no current salary, but I don't fully understand everything that affects a credit score, other than the fact that taking out a loan and paying it back results in a higher score than paying for large purchases directly, which makes no sense to me. I have always bought my cars with cash, starting with my very first car that I paid for with money saved from my summer job, plus a contribution from my dad, who stated, "Buy a decent car so I don't have to come rescue you in the middle of the night when the car breaks down; here's the same amount of money I spent on fixing your sister's first car." Once I had a regular job, I saved the equivalent of a monthly car payment before I needed to replace my car, so by the time I was in the market for a new car, I had saved up enough to buy it with cash. Lather, rinse, repeat for successive cars. But according to the credit algorithm (apparently), this makes me more of a credit risk than someone who doesn't (or can't) plan ahead. But be that as it may, although my score did fall somewhat, it was still in the "excellent" range. And my approved credit limit was high enough for any expected expenses.

I breathed a sigh of relief, and another a few days later when I received my physical card. I even successfully added it to my "virtual wallet." It felt like a major victory. 

I'm not sure why, but this step felt very symbolic of my independence. Well, "independence" doesn't feel like quite the right word. Perhaps "self-reliant" is more accurate, or maybe "self-sufficient." There are many times over the past months when I have thought to myself, "I can't do this alone," but this small step to financial independence reminded me that yes, I can. I mean, give me some credit.