Say it like it is, brother… be patient, but firm… and not be afraid to start a fight.
Check.
And while I’m back, let me just say- what the fuck is the deal with your posts spreading across the god-dammed screen like that! Huh!
Oops… A little misplaced anger there.
See, I got it in me.
And let me finally add, since this thread is still refreshed, that I did get your point about not being so apologetic in the original bitch.
I somewhat misread that just a minute ago.
I see what your saying, and what the others have said, that it makes sense to simply air it out short and sweet and without all the added justification nonsense.
A very good point, and something I’ll hope to keep in mind in the future.
I don’t know about anyone else, but I’m learning quite a bit here.
You aren’t going to believe what I thought your thread title meant (which was why I didn’t click on it for so long). Finally, I thought, ‘CNote? No way!’, and clicked. When I first saw it, I got a mental picture of helping you explain to the bank what all might be wrong with your girlfriend.
My banks not open long enough for that, Lib.
… and that’s another bitch I have about them- bankers hours.
Hate to break this to you…
They DON’T care about you, your letter, your visits…
never have… never will. You would be better off going WAY over the branches head and dealing directly with the corporate office. Ask for the name of the regional head.
(you might already have done so… I didn’t read all of the posts)
THEY ARE EVIL!
They do care about getting your money and then reaping all the overdraft charges they can from you. Think about it. They only earn money by service fees, over-draft charges, and giving low interest rates on interest bearing accounts. They are all in it for just that… taking your money.
I was a banker for 14 years. Oh, the things I’ve seen. It made me want to yank all my money out and put it under my mattress. Banks are evil, I tell ya. It hurts to even look back on my years there. I’ve done things, in the corporation’s name, that I’m ashamed of. I quit two banks because of that. I’m “pro client” not “pro bank” and felt compelled to quit once bank policy started rubbing against my work ethic. I couldn’t sleep at night knowing the things I knew. They are the shameless hussys of the corporate world.
Cnote, I think you are doing exactly the right thing by writing a letter of complaint. I did that when my local bank started charging a fee if my checking account balance went below a certain dollar amount. At first they charged $5 for going below $500. A few months later it turned into $7.50 for going below $500. The final straw was when they started charging $10 a month…and they raised the minimum to $750.
No if I had an extra $750 sitting around doing nothing, the last place I’d put it is a non-interest bearing checking account.
Peeved, I wrote them a very short letter saying, “I am closing my checking account with you today because of the “Change in Terms” notification I received today. (Highlighted copy attached.) Your competitor, Firstar, has no minimum balance requirement so I will be banking with them now.”
Why write it? 1) It made ME feel better to communicate my frustration. 2) Having been in Customer Service before I know that one letter from a valued customer has more weight than than a hundred studies. So while I knew I wouldn’t directly benefit from writing the letter, other customers might.
Of course I never heard back from them, but I was tickled to see the following banner displayed across the front of their bank a few months back: “TOTALLY FREE CHECKING!!”
Whitedove, you can’t just bring up interesting things like that and let it drop.
Let’s hear it. Let’s hear the evil things you did. You can change the names to protect the guilty.
Blink
Brief update-
Well, I went into the bank this morning. I went in thinking I’ll be polite but firm, and at least explain my problem with them and see what happens.
It didn’t work out so hot.
The same woman who wouldn’t look up my stuff before came out and asked what I wanted.
In a way, I have a feeling she’s the muscle around that place- she’s cute, she’s young, she seems friendly enough… she fits every profile for what Al Pacino said in the movie, ‘The Devil’s Advocate’ is the ultimate quality in a person- “never let them see you coming”.
Well, I never see this woman coming- both figuratively and literally. I walk in and have a seat and out of nowhere she appears. Then, as I talk to her and she looks back at me with those seemingly caring eyes, I don’t see the level of bitchiness and overall rudeness that she’s apparently capable of, coming either. She completely baffles me… I never see it coming.
But back to how it happened-
She approaches me and asks she me what I want. I told her I was interested in speaking with the branch manager about my account.
She looked at me like I’d asked her for the combination to their walk-in vault.
“Why? Why do you need to speak to her?”
“I’d like to speak to her about my account.”
:: See? I kept it simple, and to the point. I didn’t let myself get sidetracked.::
She looked around for a second (She really wasn’t looking for anyone, I’m convinced, but wanted to give me that air that she actually was trying to do something. She didn’t have me fooled.).
She told me she wasn’t available at this time and again said, “What can I help you with. What seems to be the problem" (Well, bitch, I don’t know what it seems to you, but to me, it is a problem). My calmer head kicked in and I kept my cool.
“I’ve tried speaking with the manager a few times now and every time I come in she’s either not here or busy. I’d like to speak to her. Is there a reason I can’t speak with the manager?”
:: An old trick I learned. Keep asking easy questions ::
“I’m sorry sir, but she’s busy right now……”
And that was it. No, ‘Come back later’, or, ‘You’re free to wait but it might be awhile’, nothing…. she just stood there looking at me. Once again, I didn’t see it coming. I never expected to get in a staring game with a bank representative… I was thrown off yet again.
*I should add, since I suspect some are wondering out there why they continue to treat me like I’m a bum or a burden to them, I looked great. I had a relatively new Abercrombie Fitch button down shirt over a crisp, clean, white tee with khaki type slacks and my trusty Doc Martins on. Over all this, because it’s chilly outside right now, I had my Gap brown barn jacket on (Sorry about the name brand stuff, but it makes it clear how I looked). So, needless to say, I think I was looking respectable. On top of all that, I was in a good mood. I didn’t look angry, my hair wasn’t standing up on end- I looked like the normal person you’d see walking down the street. I certainly didn’t look like I finally got some money in my pocket and I was hell-bent on blowing it on MD 20/20 up at the liquor store.
Back to the events of this morning.
At this point- since the staring game had begun- and the ball was obviously back in my court, I decided to completely choke- I asked her when a better time to talk to the person would be. I chickened out. I wasn’t firm or forthright, I was backtracking and hedging.
But it got me out of the situation at hand.
As she looked around and then over a cubicle type thingy towards someone I couldn’t make out, or even knew was there, I caught that she was wearing a name tag.
Cool. Now I know this woman’s name. I’ll keep that in mind when writiing future correspondences with the sons of bitches higher up in the evil institution that is US BANKS.
But there was an odd moment there, as I was staring at her name tag trying to decipher her name, something I’ve never really noticed before until this morning- when a woman wears a name tag, it’s directly over her boob.
Interesting… but also troubling. To look at her name tag, I’d have to look down and directly at her tits.
Now that’s not something a polite young man like me has been taught to do. I wasn’t raised under a rock… I’m polite and kind- I wait for the woman to look away before I check out her rack.
Now only if she’d look away…
Luck of lucks, the representative from hell was temporarily preoccupied and was still busy staring at the cubicle wall… it must have been interesting to her. But I didn’t care, at she wasn’t looking at me and I now had my chance to look… and a long look at that.
Her name was hyphenated, oddly capitalized, and seemed to have about four first names in it.
But I had it… finally.
But the other troubling part of placing a name tag on a boob, and my paranoid mind thinks it’s why it’s done like this in the first place, is that it derails the male mind. A male mind gets confused easily, and between a boob and someone’s name, I’m going to remember that boob.
Alas, that’s what happened. My male mind hadn’t stored her name long enough to put it into long-term memory.
Now, I can perfectly retell how firm and inviting that breast was, and how it almost seemed perched upon a frame like a ripe apple on a tree, just wanting to be picked… but for the life of me, I can’t remember her damn name!
But I pleasantly digress- back to the events as they happened earlier today.
If I remember right, at that point she told me to come in later in the day and maybe she’ll be available.
Well, you know what? Sorry! This really isn’t worth my time anymore. You’ve done your job evil representative woman, you’ve kept me from getting to anyone in the know, or anyone who can resolve anything, you’ve maneuvered me long enough and with precision timing that now…. Now? I simply don’t care.
You beat me… you vile, unremorseful, representative from hell!! My anger lurks no more… I’ve grown tired.
I’ll let my letters wind there way through the bottomless pit that is corporate America and see what happens. I doubt much will, but I’ll wait.
If nothing comes of it? I’ll politely, kindly, and with purpose, walk in and simply close out my account. Trying to store and access my money- for a fee- simply isn’t worth all this nonsense.
Not to mention the fact that the bank is charging you for using your money to finance their business interests…and they certainly don’t pay you for the privilege…
I once had a bank put my count into a negative balance because THEY put my deposit in incorrectly and bounced 5 checks. They then gave me a hard time about writing a letter to the places that the checks bounced from explaining that it was a bank error! These people were going to charge me a bounced check fee, and the bank was essentially refusing to accept responsibility for their own mistake. One check was my first months rent to my new landlord. Nice.
I got wickedly pissed and basically told them that I was absolutely not leaving their lobby until they fixed the problem or I got hauled to jail, in which case I would very much enjoy telling our local paper about how bad they treat their customers.
They fixed the problem at that point, and I wrote several letters about the incident to the higher ups about it. I was so fucking pissed- I mean, your mistake- fix it! How hard is that?
Zette
I’ve seen a house go into foreclosure, because of a teller error. (this is one I might be going to court for, as a witness, on the CLIENT’S side! Now that I’m no longer employed there, I’ll be on the customer’s side of that issue)
I’ve seen little-old-lady grannys, crying in the lobby because they have just been service charged into the negative while living from one social security check to another… and the bank stood firm on it’s reversal policies.
I’ve seen banks report a person to ChekSystems (which in effect wrecks a persons banking history for five years) for amounts under $20.00. (It cost the bank nearly as much just to report them, crikey)
I’ve seen hassled clients pushed to the breaking point in a teller window. Heaven forbid they teach the tellers how to communicate effectively and help to calm a situation… they would rather treat the client like an ignorant chunk of meat, inflaming an already upset person.
I’ve seen investment bankers “talk down” to women. Just because they were women… and try to get them to invest in the things that would reap the most commission. I am a licensed annuity agent and I had the toughest time asking a client to invest in something that I could not stand behind. It created a lot of heartache for me.
I’ve seen banks encode a $28.00 check with %2800.00 and that created such a wicked dominoe effect for the client that it nearly cost them their home. (dozens and dozens of bounched checks, the repurcussions rippled through that account for months, we finally had to close that one down and start fresh with a new one)
I’ve seen credit card payments, utility bill payments, home loan payments, and federal tax bills, get shoveled into the garbage.
This is just a few of the things. I am so ashamed to have been an employee in some of those situations.
I’m so glad it’s over.
damnit…
that was $2800.00
was rushing because dinner was bubbling over in the oven.