By Barb Weir

Penin Diaz, an American friend of mine, sent me this distressing report that I felt I had to share.  Some of the details are uniquely American, but the experience is not  – Barb Weir

Our family is going through hard times, and we’re trying to cut expenses, so I asked my bank about mortgage loan modification.

“We’re here to help you, Mr. Diaz,” said the loan officer.  “How far behind are you in your mortgage payments?  You don’t qualify unless you’re pretty destitute.”

“We’re not behind yet,” I said, “but I lost my job.  In order to keep up the payments, we had to shut down the heating and air conditioning and eat peanut butter sandwiches.  My son is wearing my daughter’s hand-me-downs, which she got at the thrift store.  My wife sold all her jewelry, and is getting additional income from what she calls ‘the kindness of strangers.’”

“That’s terrible, Mr. Diaz, but I can’t help unless your payments are at least two months behind. Stop paying and come back in two months.”

So we did and I returned after two months.

“Good job,” said the loan officer.  “Fill out these forms, and mail them in, along with proof of how poor you now are, compared to when you took out the loan.”