Credit Union Checking Account | Clawson

She had signed it. Thirty-six years ago. Back when Reagan was president and a “setoff” was something you did with a pair of scissors.

“Why are you helping me?”

“They took everything,” Agnes said.

“Mrs. Kowalski,” he said, leading her into a glass-walled office. “I’m so sorry. We’re required to honor the setoff. The auto loan went into default six months ago. The co-signer—your late husband’s brother, Mr. Ronald Kowalski—has filed for bankruptcy. Under the account agreement you signed in 1987, any deposit account can be used to cover any debt you’re jointly liable for.” credit union checking account clawson

Derek, to his credit, made a phone call. Great Lakes Fiduciary Services argued for an hour. Then they backed down. She had signed it

The checking account was hers . Her name. Her social security number. Her pension deposits for twenty-three years as a Clawson school librarian. The credit union was on Fourteen Mile Road, just past the old Dairy Queen. She’d opened the account in 1987, when the tellers still used typewriters. “Why are you helping me

The setoff was cruel. The system was cold. But in Clawson, on a Tuesday in October, two old women reminded each other what a credit union was really for.