Modern capitalism stands poised to move into its pickpocketing iteration.

The other day a friend received a bill in the mail. It came in one of those envelopes the shade of “deadbeat pink.” It was from her HMO, which demanded $344.52 for a procedure she thought her insurance covered, insurance for which she already paid about $2,500 a year. Turns out they don’t cover such routine procedures, so, unless she wanted a credit rating like that which Greece enjoys, she needed to fork over the money. When I heard her story, I wasn’t surprised. The nation’s economy has shifted from finance to gotcha capitalism, after all. Fees, surcharges and other juicy penalties lurk in the fine print, which has of late become exceedingly fine.

The other day I also stopped by my too big to fail bank to check on a secondary account, one which I don’t pay much attention to because, well, I just have it in case my primary bank folds and I have to perhaps wait two or three weeks for the FDIC to hand over my cash or, what seems likelier, an IOU. While pulling up my account balances, a cheerful blond banker with a less than endearing Texas accent, informs me that I’m being charged twenty dollars a month. Because I had never been charged such an exorbitant amount in my entire eleven years of banking with that particular too big to fail bank, I angrily demanded the reason for the charges. Turns out my account had magically turned into one where, unless I kept at least $30,000 in it at all times, I’d be charged a twenty dollar “service fee” — because, you know, it’s so much trouble to service an account that has absolutely no activity.

I left vowing to leave my bloated, TARP-drunk bank for a more trustworthy credit union. But the whole experience got me thinking. No longer can I afford (literally) to be the distracted bookworm who only opens her account statements once every few months. No longer could my financial plan be to spend half of what I make so I never have to worry about becoming destitute. Nope. Now I’ve got to watch out for all the jackals and leeches peopling our country’s financial institutions — parasites hell-bent on sucking each and every middle class person dry (not that I even consider myself middle class, mind you).

Every envelope from Capital One or Citi or Visa requires the intellectual effort of a timed blue-book exam.

I’m not alone in my anger. The Detroit Free Press reports that new regulations are prompting credit card companies to tack on all sorts of fees to make up for the revenue lost from gouging customers with usurious interest rates. But many people refuse to deal with those companies at all anymore. The article reports on one woman who has just had enough with her creditors: While consumer groups generally applaud new restrictions on credit cards, Vickie Wellington isn’t buying into them. “I just don’t want to be bound by those new terms,” says the 60-year-old Detroiter. “There are higher fees. There are new fees. I don’t need credit that bad. I don’t need them.”"

The Detroit Free Press article goes on to report that

Consumer groups charge for the most part that credit card companies got away too long with sneaky rate hikes, oddball billing practices and outrageous fees.

U.S. Sen. Carl Levin, D-Mich., heard plenty from angry consumers and pushed the credit card reform legislation that was signed into law last May.

But the new restrictions have a price. Credit card companies are now creating new fees, such as inactivity fees, or bringing back annual fees.

“These are folks that never met a fee they didn’t like, anyway,” warned Adam Levin, co-founder and chairman of Credit.com. “If they can’t get it in a rate, they’re going to go after a fee.”

And so what was once a seemingly mundane activity–taking out a credit card, watching your balance, and paying your bill every month–has become a taxing mental exercise. Every envelope from Capital One or Citi or Visa requires the intellectual effort of a timed blue-book exam. And you’ve got to scan and rescan your online account summary, just in case they’ve tacked on a new fee because you’re under 5′ 7″ or you once purchased Bud Light instead of your local microbrew. You just don’t know; no rhyme or reason or rules of fair play govern your financial existence. It’s just you and all the schoolyard bullies with names like Wells Fargo and Chase and all the playground monitors  have left to chat one another up.

Shakedown street: scavengers ascendant under gotcha capitalism.

Not surprisingly, many are choosing to shred their credit cards and go hard cash pulled from under their mattresses. But then there’s the scummy landlords who steal damage deposits, car insurance companies who raise their rates to cover their guaranteed stockholder dividend, and worst of all, the health insurance companies who refuse to pay for treatment they promised so sweetly to pay for when you first signed up and forked over a couple grand. Then there’s the revenue-starved state police force that’s looking for ways to balance the budget so they gotta pull you over for going two miles over the speed limit, and the airline that charges you 40 dollars to fly your clothes with you.

Shakedowns are just part of life, an extra little tax to the parasites who cling to the social fabric like so many bedbugs on a futon in Queens.

Wednesday night, between high fives, bro hugs, and other signs of plutocratic bonhomie, President Obama said he was going to fix all this. He said that he was going to reign in all those bad bankers. Of course Ben Bernanke was reconfirmed as Fed chief, so it really seems like the big O was just venting hot air once again — false hope, spare change, and little besides. But at least the budget will be frozen for a few years so our lives will become even more austere and sad. That way we can devote more time and attention to fending off the hyenas waiting to dip into our meager savings.

What have I decided to do? Well, since nothing is so precious to me as my intellectual freedom, I’ve set aside 2,000 dollars a year that I can just assume will be stolen from me. It’s a special little savings account earmarked for all those banksters and pranksters that rule our economy and our country. That way I don’t have to think so hard about the possibility of being cheated, because I’ve assumed that someone already has cheated me and I just need to wait until they come to collect. It’s a form of defeatism, yes, but it’s also a recognition and acceptance of a new social and economic reality. I suspect some citizen of Soviet Russia felt much the same when he or she handed over an extra hundred rubles to procure a piece of meat or bread that should have sold at the advertised price. It was just part of life, an extra little tax to the parasites who clung to the social fabric like so many bedbugs on a futon in Queens.

I do hope that something will change, and I’ll find myself at the end of this year with an extra thousand dollars which I can then use to pay down my student loans. That would be the most I could hope for. But given the events of the past few days, I’ll continue to keep an eye open for those little pink envelopes like so many Valentines from the scumbags desirous of my paltry paycheck.

Ylajali would love to hear from you. Drop her a line at hansengenbub [at] gmail [dot] com.

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