Prefer not to use credit cards? Good luck with that

By Hope Carr

Late last month, my son had a doctor's appointment in Bismarck, N.D. We live in Carrington, two hours away from Bismarck and most shopping, so I planned to roll this appointment into a shopping trip to pick up some of the usual supplies and holiday goods. Maybe we'd spend the night in a hotel and eat at a restaurant.

After the doctor, my first priority was the big-box retail store where I often shop for supplies. I had about $30 worth of coupons and I needed to get some baby stuff (diapers, wipes and bath supplies), Halloween candy and accessories, my son's birthday and Christmas gifts, some kids' socks and Underoos, medicine and a few other miscellaneous items. Some two hours after entering the store with my baby girl and a 2-year-old who would be needing a nap, I was finally ready to check out.

My total was close to $350. I wrote a check, as I normally do. A very nice cashier asked for my ID and ran my check through a processing machine.

Then she handed it back. She told me my check would not process.

The cashier directed me to the 800 number printed on the reverse of the check. Embarrassed, I looked back at the people behind me in line, stepped aside and called the number. Sufficient funds were available, I knew, so I was baffled when a voice told me: "It's too high of an amount. ... You do not have enough check history with us to write a check for this amount."

They wouldn't take my check because it was a larger purchase than I usually made?

Shaken, I asked what I was supposed to do with my purchases. The voice responded that I should pay with a credit card or debit card. I told her this was not possible, as it was against my religion. Did I need to go to the competing big-box store in town for my $350 worth of stuff? The competitor had never refused my check because I was trying to buy too much of its merchandise.

She had no answer. I hung up in frustration.

I then asked to speak with the manager. A young man listened to my issue and quickly passed me to another supervisor. The second manager told me that he did not have any authorization to override the computer. The only other thing we could try, he said, would be splitting the sale up into smaller totals.

At this point I wanted to do nothing more than drop some f-bombs and abandon my cart. But I got back into the same line and rechecked my items. The first check, for $115, cleared with no problem. The second check, for $106, cleared as well. The third and final check, for $117? Rejected.

The manager shrugged. Again I was told to call the 800 number and again I stepped aside and did so. This time a voice told me my check was rejected because of suspicious check activity.

I gave in and resorted to the emergency credit card in my purse, a card that I believed to be almost to its $500 max after our rough month of co-pays and prescription drugs. It was accepted! Yippee.

Only one problem: I did not want to use this card. I was pretty sure that this expense would put me over my card limit and generate a $30 fee. Good thing I had used those coupons.

Needless to say, the buck stopped there. I did not continue on my shopping expedition. I did not spend the night and I did not enjoy my visit to Bismarck. I did, however, scrounge enough cash to buy us supper. Interesting note: My change had to be rounded up, because the restaurant did not have any coins.

On my drive back home I stewed, broke into tears and developed a major headache. In the morning I collected my information and re-called the 800 number to verify my facts. I called my bank to confirm that I had ample funds available and that there was not any type of daily limit that would have come into play. My bank said there were no problems. Whatever had happened was due to store policy, not my account or the bank itself.

I called the retail chain's headquarters, spoke to several managers, and got nowhere.

I will not shop there again. I am sad to no longer be a fan of that store. And I am sad to discover that I live in a world that honors the almighty plastic over personal judgment and common sense.

Hope Carr is a stay-at-home mom in Carrington, N.D.

Gallery

Fullscreen SlidePrevious Slide

1 of 1

Next Slide