Who needs Amex on the road anyway?

The American Express card is something I’d rather leave home without.

For years I’ve heard shopkeepers grumble about the excessive charges American Express takes from them when customers use its cards. I’ve covered Amex as a company and have witnessed it ruthlessly acquire more than its fair share of travel agencies. To say it has no shortage of enemies would probably be an understatement.

But I’ve never had a personal reason to cut my green card to slivers – even after word that it is raising the fee for its Membership Rewards program by a staggering 60 percent – until today.

It all started with a bad seat. Not just any bad seat, but a seat in which I was more or less stuck for six hours while I waited for a flight to leave from the Seattle-Tacoma International Airport. The seat was made of some kind of padded black plastic under a hard layer of foam. I shifted from side to side, took a walk, sat back down, took another walk, but nothing could alleviate the discomfort.

I was also unproductive. With no power outlets nearby, no phone lines, and a drained battery, the best I could do was to jot some notes on a pad. The serious work had to be postponed until I found a plug. A short while after this trip from hell, I read a story extolling the virtues of airport lounges – those quiet oases of subtle luxury where travelers can get away from the riff-raff in the main terminal. It waxed poetically about gaining access to these exclusive clubs, which was no more complicated than securing yourself an American Express Platinum Card.

I thought, how hard can it be? I throw away between one and four offers for a credit card every week, and half of them are platinum cards. I surfed over to American Express’ Web site and checked out the cardmember benefits. They were terrific. I flash my platinum card at the lounge, I’m in.

As someone who travels strapped to a laptop computer and a carry-on loaded with bricks, I couldn’t wait to go platinum after reading the Amex propaganda. It didn’t even matter that the perks were only for three lesser airlines, Northwest, TWA and Continental. I would gladly shell out $300 a year for the privilege of admittance to these hideaways for bourgeois in transit.

The Platinum card made up for its glaring deficits by offering other incentives. Two-for-one travel deals, concierge services, extended warranties and ways to maximize my airline mile collection. The nice lady at American Express even explained that some airports will let you into their lounges with a Platinum card even if it’s not on a participating airline, meaning I wouldn’t necessarily have to forgo my visit to the Admiral’s Club.

Now the only question was how to secure the card. I filled out a one-page application, surrendering a lot of details about my checking and credit card accounts. The helpful representative at the American Express toll-free line said if I had a clean credit record, I would be a shoo-in for the card. How was I to know she had neglected to mention a few details?

I didn’t have to wait for very long to learn the specifics. The letter, signed by Sandy Erskine of the new accounts department, spelled it all out. “Unfortunately, we are unable to complete our processing of your application for the card at this time. To do so, we need your assistance.”

What did Amex need? “A letter on original business letterhead from your accountant, broker, banker or attorney confirming the annual amount and source(s) of your income.”

Hello, didn’t I list on my application that I’m a self-employed writer? I put the question to another nice lady from American Express’ new accounts department. “I don’t have a lawyer, banker or an attorney,” I explained. “And my accountant is still working on this year’s taxes. I can’t bother him with this.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” the nice lady replied. “We need that letter.”

The response from Sandy was explicit about what would happen in the event of my non-compliance. “Regrettably, if we do not hear from you within 30 days, we will be unable to provide additional consideration to your credit request.”

I have no idea why Amex gave me a hard time. Could it be because I’m what credit card companies call a deadbeat customer? My credit report must have revealed that I’ve never missed a payment and that I settle all my debts promptly. Credit cards hate that, because they can’t make any money on interest payments. Then again, Amex is a charge card, so that wouldn’t bother them.

Maybe I just rang up too low a score on its internal rating system designed to weed out customers with potential payment problems. Writing, after all, isn’t always a steady means of income. If that’s the case, then I wish the company would be more straightforward and tell it like it is. Amex is probably denying me access to these lounges – the last bastion of civility at the airport – because of my chosen profession. Ouch.

Only in America. Or should I say, only at American Express.

Christopher Elliott is the author of Scammed: How to Save Your Money and Find Better Service in a World of Schemes, Swindles, and Shady Deals. Critics have called it “eye-opening” and “inspiring” — it’ll “grab your attention and won’t let go.” Order your copy now on Amazon, Barnes & Noble or iTunes.

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