My Name

Imagine trusting a company named after the legendary hero who stole from the rich to give to the poor, only to find out they're doing the exact opposite—stealing from everyday people like you and me to line their own pockets. That's Robinhood in a nutshell. As someone who's been burned badly by their Robinhood Gold Credit Card, I feel compelled to share my story, not just to vent my frustration, but to warn you before you hand over control of your hard-earned money to a platform that prioritizes power over people. If you've ever felt that pit in your stomach when a financial app glitches or a payment doesn't go through, multiply that by a hundred—this is the reality of dealing with Robinhood, and it's far more dangerous than it seems.
Let me paint the picture of my personal hell. I signed up for the Robinhood Gold Credit Card thinking it would be a convenient way to manage investments and rewards alongside my spending. But right from the start, the red flags were waving. There's only one way to pay off your balance: a direct connection between Robinhood and your bank account via their Plaid service, set up exclusively in the Robinhood app. No alternatives—no paper checks, no cash deposits, no Zelle, Venmo, or even an ACH transfer initiated from your own bank. They demand total control, forcing you to link everything through their system. It's like handing over the keys to your financial kingdom and hoping they don't lock you out.

Well, they did. Recently, I initiated a routine payment to clear my balance, just like I'd done successfully every month before. Funds were available in my bank, the connection was still visible and active in the app, and my account was in good standing. But the payment failed. Robinhood's excuse? "The bank account is missing." Missing? It wasn't missing—it was right there, intact, with plenty of money waiting. I'd used this exact setup for all prior payments without a hitch. Yet, because of their mysterious "error," they slapped me with a $29 late fee and flat-out refused to reverse it, even after I provided proof of everything. This isn't a glitch; it's theft. Pure and simple. They held my money hostage in their ecosystem, created a problem out of thin air, and profited from it. The irony of a company called Robinhood robbing me blind isn't lost on me—it's infuriating, and it should terrify you too.

This isn't just my isolated bad luck; it's a pattern that screams untrustworthiness. Robinhood has a history of failing customers when it matters most. Remember the massive outages during peak market volatility, like in 2020, when millions couldn't access their accounts and lost thousands? Or how they've been fined millions by regulators for misleading customers, poor execution practices, and even crypto withdrawal blocks from 2018 to 2022? They've paid out $3.9 million for not letting people pull out their own crypto, and just this year, FINRA hit them with a $3.75 million restitution order for harming customers with false info and system failures. And don't get me started on their shady practices like marking short sales as long positions or failing to deliver on trades, leading to a $43 million SEC fine for years of securities violations. Users have reported fraud where Robinhood challenges chargebacks, wins them, but still sells off your assets to cover "deficits" they created. Even their credit card has been called a scam for hidden hard credit pulls and reward abuses that lead to account closures. These aren't one-off complaints; they're systemic issues that show Robinhood values their control over your security.
Psychologically, it's exhausting. You start with excitement about "democratized" investing, but end up feeling powerless, betrayed, and violated. They lure you in with "free" trades and flashy apps, but behind the scenes, their payment-for-order-flow model means they're selling your data and trades to high-frequency traders who profit at your expense—costing retail investors like us an estimated $34 million more than we'd pay elsewhere. It's designed to make you dependent, then exploit that dependency. What if your payment fails during a market crash, or worse, they freeze your account amid fraud you didn't cause? The fear of losing everything because one company holds all the strings is real, and it's happened to too many, including tragic cases where poor margin handling led to unimaginable loss.
Robinhood isn't a hero; they're the villain in disguise, preferring ultimate power over your money while hiding behind fine print and unresponsive support. If you value your financial freedom, avoid them at all costs.

Absolutely wonderful customer service. Always helpful. They are not centered around making money, but instead, actually helping you. Great selection of products as well.

Fantastic product. Horrible and disgusting service. But I guess I am the fool for buying two $150k cars and not being able to get a single person on the phone or item fixed.