FEATURED AUTHOR
DANA NEAL

As one of 10 children, I grew up in an environment that stimulated competition and improvisation. Imagine: 10 kids and one pizza. But this same adversity would serve me well in later life, by teaching me the value of simple things; a perspective that most take for granted. My parents goals were as thin as the stretched resources, but it was the simplicity of their mantra that invoked clarity in the mind of a child: be honest and get an education.

The military was a good solution for college money. I joined the Army National Guard and obtained a full scholarship, which permitted me to go to school simultaneously while serving. I’ve always had a love for my country, so this was a welcome opportunity. To earn money for living expenses, I also became a part-time bill collector for a collection agency. My job was to collect on defaulted student loans for the Greater Lakes Higher Education Corporation. It was good experience in many ways, not the least of which was the education I received on fair debt collection practices. It's just too bad that few of the collectors actually followed the rules and most abused the people they called, which made me uncomfortable from the start. Even as I followed the rules, just listening to my peers over a period of weeks and then months was just too much to stomach; I didn't last a year. Little did I know that far into my future I would become a consumer advocate for debtors, providing them with the necessary tools to effectively deal with the rabid, unscrupulous collector.

The National Guard, on the other hand, was a good experience in many ways. But I remember being unsatisfied as an enlisted soldier. One hot summer road march stands out in my memory. Walking in the middle of nowhere, a rifle in hand and a heavy backpack strapped on, with the dust being kicked up all around and choking my parched throat while the grumblings of a couple hundred fussy men added to the intensity of the experience. Then I heard the resonating thumping of a Huey helicopter in the distance to my rear. As it roared past me at treetop level, I had an epiphany: “It’s just plain wrong that I’m down here and they’re up there.” I think the thought that followed was something profound like, “This sucks.”

To make flight school a reality, I needed to become an officer; Officer Candidate School (OCS) was the answer. Among other things, a soldier applying to OCS required the unit commander’s approval. My commander wouldn’t approve me, stating that I was too young. In an effort to change his mind, I earned the Honor Graduate Award during air assault school (helicopter rappel training). This was huge--a lowly Guardsman, a corporal no less, snatching the award from his active-duty counterparts, several of whom were ranked as high as captain! But it wasn’t enough for my commander, and I knew that if becoming Honor Graduate wasn’t enough, then nothing I did would ever be. It was clear that I’d have to find another way.

The assistant commandant of OCS was Lieutenant Colonel Potts. I met with him for about an hour and a half in private, his stony eyes piercing my psyche. At the end of our conversation, he said, “I know that your commander won’t be happy and will be calling me, but I’m going to let you into the program.” Then he added, “Boy, you are arrogant. You remind me of my son. Just don’t let the TAC [training] officers find out that you’re arrogant.” Eventually, the TAC officers did find out that I was arrogant (these things have a way of coming out sooner or later). I was many things when I was younger, but that’s another story . . .

This interaction with Lieutenant Colonel Potts was a turning point in my life in many ways. First, I was headed to OCS, and that was the first major step toward flight school. Second, I learned that the major components of fate are not set in stone as long as you adopt a steadfast approach and have a willingness to throw it all out there and take risks. I discovered that this principle could be applied to achieving anything I desired. My life was forever changed as I began to make my own luck. As time went on, whenever the front door was somehow closed to me, I used the same back-door approach I’d used to get into flight school, to get selected to fly the Blackhawk helicopter, to get into the army’s fixed-wing course (airplane flight training), and many other things. When the rules weren’t conducive to success, I’d create a new set or ignore them completely. If there was a hole, I’d find it, and if there was not a hole then I’d drill one.

From that day with Lieutenant Colonel Potts forward, I never let anyone or anything stop me from attaining my reasonable and honorable pursuits. If I really wanted to do something, then the last thing to do was tell me that I couldn’t, because by God, I would. I’d find a back door, side door, trap door—any door to make it happen. Any door, any window, any crack.

After earning my degree in aviation at Ohio State, I went straight to active duty. By that time, I was a first lieutenant with some good experience under my belt. I had finished flight school, flown medevac helicopters for the Army Reserve, and made just enough mistakes to be considered something other than a neophyte. The years that followed were good. I was finally doing something I enjoyed and making a decent living. I’d found that I could take the world and make it give me what I wanted . . . or so I thought.

Without warning, after I’d put in years of persistent training, discipline, and hard work, a work-related spinal injury left me with a severely herniated disc and changed life as I knew it. Three back surgeries in under 12 months followed, and a subsequent injury insured that my days as a pilot were over. As I recognized the inevitable and was medically retired from the service, a new reality emerged: “Hey, I’m actually not Superman.”

Although leaving the service was not what I had envisioned, it offered me the opportunity to explore previously untapped talents. Suffering a loss of significant income and facing an onslaught of bill collectors, I began expanding on the knowledge of the debt collection and credit reporting system that I had gained as a bill collector in college--this time from a different perspective. The same perseverance and audacity that has always served me so well in life began to kick in as I discovered new ways to make it work for me. My proactive approach--finding cracks or drilling holes where none exist--has made me an expert on the subject of credit repair while helping me to deal with my own financial crisis.

In the years since my injury, I have focused on building BestCredit, a business that emerged from my desire to help others fight back against a flawed and unjust credit reporting system. The mission of BestCredit is to empower consumers to take control of their financial situation, turn things around, and ultimately win the credit game. It does so by arming them with the knowledge and tools to use the same doors I did to escape debt and recover from negative credit. My book, BestCredit: How to Win the Credit Game, outlines how the credit reporting system works and provides consumers with proven techniques for building good credit as well as recovering from bad credit. It goes into explicit detail about the credit scoring process, the safe and legal removal of negative credit, consumer rights under the Fair Credit Reporting Act and Fair Debt Collection Practices Act, strategies for handling bill collectors, techniques for dealing with erroneous billing, strategies for negotiating with creditors to settle debts, identity theft prevention tactics, and much more.

When I’m not busy with BestCredit, I enjoy hanging out with my wonderful dog, Major; nurturing and appreciating the value of true friendships; and pursuing my newly discovered passion for writing. Since completing BestCredit, I have also written some short stories and am working on a novel.

BESTCREDIT
How to Win the Credit Game