Seventy-one minutes talking to, and being placed on hold by, Bank of America, is a special kind of hell. Guess who hasn't gotten her "overnighted" escrow refund? It has been a full week.
The usual run-around ensued on the phone with BofA, including a guy telling me, "well, 'overnight' doesn't mean overnight". I actually said to him, "What is this, Bill Clinton?" (I actually like President Clinton. I was banking on the rep's southern accent indicating that he wouldn't like to be compared in the weasel-words sense. I was right, because he started working on escalating my claim and being nicer to me.)
It turns out that, surprise surprise, BofA didn't really send out my money. Or at least, "well, we don't have a tracking number actually". Who doesn't have a tracking number for overnight deliveries in 2012? That's preposterous.
me: What would you do, if it was your money?
BofA guy: I'd wait for it to come.
me: You'd wait indefinitely?
BofA guy: Well, it hasn't been indefinitely yet.
So I'm still waiting. But hey, it hasn't been indefinitely yet. And maybe 'indefinitely' won't mean indefinitely.
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