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The tanking economy isn’t exactly your fault, but America’s biggest debt-collection company — headquartered in Horsham — will still hunt you down By Jason Fagone
THE CALL CAME on a Saturday morning, 8:30 a.m. Tara Burkholder remembers the time so precisely because the call woke her from a dead sleep. The lady on the other end of the line was from a company called NCO Financial, Tara says. The lady didn’t give her name. No pleasantries, no how ya doin’. Straight to business. She wanted Burkholder to pay back a $9,000 educational loan that her husband, Ryan, had taken out a few years earlier. “I told her, I’ve got $92 in my checking account, two inches of milk in the fridge,” Tara recalls. “It just ain’t possible.” This was back in April. Times were getting tough. Tara, then 30, had no income. She was a student teacher in Georgia, working for free in hopes of landing a full-time teaching job. Her husband was a lawyer in civilian life, but at that moment he was half a world away, deployed in the Iraq war, helping Iraqi judges restore order in a violent region east of Baghdad. Until he came back home, to the Fort Benning Army base, Tara had to watch her budget carefully — and food for her daughter came first, before any loan repayments. Tara explained all of this to the NCO lady, but the NCO lady was unsympathetic, Tara says. The NCO lady told Tara it was time for her to give up on her dream of being a teacher, and get a paying job immediately: “Honey, sometimes we have to do things that we need to do.” The lady also told Tara that NCO had contacted her husband’s commanding officer in Iraq, and that if she didn’t pay back the loan, her husband would be dishonorably discharged from the Army. snip The world headquarters of NCO happens to be in a long, single-story building out in Montgomery County, hidden in plain sight. To look at it, you’d never guess that NCO is, in fact, the largest bill collector in the world — a corporate alpha dog disguised as just another puppy. NCO boasts 30,000 employees, yearly revenues of $1.6 billion, and 120 locations (mostly call centers) in the likes of Antigua, Australia, Barbados, Canada, India, Panama, Puerto Rico and the U.K. It’s the leader of a powerful industry whose highly sophisticated modern incarnation it helped to create. It’s huge. And it’s ours. Now, as America slouches into a new Great Depression, we’ve got a piece of the action. Now, when the banks fail, and the car companies fail, and even pretty healthy companies find they need to collect on their past-due bills just to make payroll, they’re going to call NCO, and NCO’s going to call you. And whether you like it or not, you’ll have a new friend in Pennsylvania.
snip The first employee was the company’s founder, Michael Barrist. Barrist was young. Remarkably so: a CEO at age 25. But he had a powerful idea. He had grown up in Havertown, where his parents ran a small debt-collection company out of their converted garage. Most debt companies were mom-and-pop operations. Barrist dreamed of bringing the industry into the age of computers and databases and offshore call centers. The time was ripe. All over America, people were flashing plastic. It was the dawn of the credit-card era. In 1952, according to a report by the think tank Center for American Progress, American families had less than 40 cents in debt for every dollar of disposable income; basically, for every buck in their wallet they could spend on food or gas or a new TV, they owed 40 cents to stores or banks. Manageable. Reasonable. But by 1990, it was 80 cents in debt for every dollar of disposable income. (By 2007, it was $1.34 in debt for every dollar.) Suddenly, organizations of all kinds — department stores, sports teams, dentists, surgeons, colleges, municipalities, even the federal government — found themselves unable to deal with the flood of consumers who owed them money. snip This month, President Barack Obama will be sworn in, and life will get more difficult for debt collectors; the federal laws, which haven’t been substantially revised since they were enacted, when Barrist was a teenager, are about to be tightened. What this means, for someone like Tara Burkholder, is that help is on the way. The next call from NCO is likely to be a little bit nicer, a little bit sweeter, a little bit gentler. And what it means for Michael Barrist — this guy who built a billion-dollar company by predicting and molding the sorts of consumer behaviors that nobody else wanted to deal with — is that maybe it’s a good time to diversify into businesses “that are not directly tied to consumer behavior.” NCO has all these call centers, see, and many don’t have anything to do with debt collecting. They’re just buildings full of phones and headsets and Successories posters. You call a company about something you bought. You think you’re talking to the company. You’re not. You’re talking to an NCO employee. This may be the debt collector’s greatest trick. Envy his wiliness, his resilience: To wait out the coming Depression, he manages to disappear
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