The Federal Reserve gave consumer a few months to mull over this proposition: Should credit card companies be allowed to raise the rate on debt you already owe? Is it fair for them to constantly reshuffle your debt so you are always paying the highest possible interest rate and the most fees? Should banks keep secret the way to opt out of their overdraft protection plans, where they can charge a huge fee for a tiny overdraft? And can they send you an offer of one rate, then switch you to another?

Guess what? Consumers overwhelmingly hate all these current practices. They think credit card companies should be reigned in. Nearly 20,000 people wrote in on the three parts of the proposal: credit cards, overdrafts and truth in lending rules. Many call for stricter rules and use florid language like "usury."

Also guess what? Banks think the rules are a stupid idea. Bank of America is not just worried about itself, of course. BofA is concerned about the "broad impact on the economy both at the retail level and in highly complex securitization markets, slowing growth and limiting access to financing. To quote Bill Murray: "Dog and cats, living together!"

BusinessWeek's Jessica Silver-Greenberg says that it's the most significant credit card rule change in 20 years. Till now, she writes, regulators were content to simply force banks to clearly disclose their terms (which resulted in those pages of small-type that practically nobody reads). So now regulators and getting around to actually regulating. The comment period ended August 4, (though the comment form is still up).

My first indication of trouble was a flurry of overdraft fee notices from Chase. I knew the balance was low, but nowhere near zero, so I checked my recent transactions. I found that they had cashed a check that I had postdated three days early. To avoid any troubles, I send in my rent check early, but postdate the check with the date my rent is actually due.

I called them with a smug but calm demeanor of someone who knows they have proof of an injustice. But I was in for a shock. Postdating a check is meaningless, the Chase rep explained. Chase looks at it as an informal agreement between the person who writes the check and the person who cashes it. I've found similar stories online. More people are running into trouble because of Check 21, which clears checks much faster.

Over the years, I've made more than my fair share of mistakes in banking. I once put a large check in a backup account instead of the main one and the next day, I had a bank fee bloodbath. At various times, I've been derelict at balancing my checkbook, and there have been times I've lost track of what check was still out there, only to fully understand when it came through, and I didn't have enough money in the bank to cover it. I've also -- well, look, I'm not here to talk about my dumb mistakes. I wanted to bring up my bank's dumb mistake, and ask the question:

When my bank screws up, why can't I charge them a fee?

Friday, I rushed over to my bank and made a deposit of $646.



.

A few days ago, I was valiantly trying to convince a teller at my bank to put a check into my account as instant cash instead of having to wait until the next morning. I knew a rogue check I had written to my daughter's preschool was somewhere -- out there -- and if it went through that night, the consequences would be ugly. The bank would process the check, pummel me with $35 charges for not having funds to cover it -- and then they would deposit the money. Money, of course, that they had been holding onto for hours.

And so goes another typical day in the not-so glamorous life of a freelance writer.

I realize when it comes to complaining about the bank's tactics, I'm on shaky ground. As sinister as I think it is, I get it. Banks have rules; I didn't follow them. But I am wondering how we got to this point. Maybe I have a naive view of banks, shaped from how I've seen George Bailey run his savings and loan in about 467 airings of the classic 1946 film It's a Wonderful Life. But it does seem like bank policies have positioned these institutions to act more as a foe than friend. In fact, when bemoaning the city's foreclosures, the mayor of Cleveland recently likened banks to "organized crime."

I've been a longtime Bank of America customer, ever since I left my job at crosstown rival First Union (now Wachovia Bank) and moved to a city without a branch. Now both my husband and I have accounts, and we often transfer funds between them because we're not yet masters of total financial communication. I have a love/hate relationship with the bank: I love the online banking, and the staff at my local branch. I hate the way the company charges overdraft fees in a way that often seems bent on exploiting the type of customer who lives from paycheck to paycheck (which is totally me, though I am working hard not to be).

Though we've had some stupid financial management practices in the past, we've recently become disciplined at checking our accounts every day to make sure we haven't screwed up and spent too much in one. Bank of America is generous in approving transactions beyond what's available in the account; so if you don't have it down to the penny, or bestow a tip you've forgotten to notate, sometimes you have a few pending transactions that send you into the negative. No worries, I've always thought: I'll just transfer some funds from my account to my husband's, putting us into the black and avoiding fees.

Not so fast, Sparky. Evidently, sometime this summer when I was going into labor with my baby boy, Bank of America sent us notification that we're to be charged fees on pending transactions that cause a negative balance; even if a deposit is made before those transactions clear.