Occasionally, all of us encounter situations where we have to do something that we really dislike doing. Some of the more obvious ones include having to go to the dentist, or visiting the in-laws, disciplining a child, or firing an employee. The list of uncomfortable tasks is different for everyone and while some individuals may have only a few, others can have dozens, or more.
In my case, while I have only a few unpleasant tasks, the ones I do have are horrific, terrifying, and exhausting events that I dread with every bone in my body. Of these nasty tasks, for me, by far the worst task of all is having to talk to my bank. A recent event may help you understand why.
About a month ago, I was looking at the bank statement for one of our corporate accounts when I noticed that our bank had “bounced” four cheques we had issued to various suppliers – yet at the time the bank declared the cheques NSF, there was more than sufficient funds in our account to honour all cheques. This was an obviously unacceptable situation and one I could only resolve by talking with the bank. I began by talking to the branch personnel, but it quickly became obvious that problem solving was not part of their job descriptions, and I was directed to speak to the branch’s customer service manager. After numerous calls that ended in voicemail messages, I finally did get to speak to the manager.
However, as soon as I indicated this was a business account, she explained she didn’t “do” corporate accounts and gave me a toll free number to their corporate customer service department in Toronto. My fear level was rapidly escalating.
I called the toll free number and despite the bank’s heroic efforts to make sure I never spoke to an actual human being, I finally made it through the dozens of automated messages and, after sitting on hold for the average life span of a giant tortoise, I got a real, living human being!
However, my enthusiasm waned when the bank got into its routine of ensuring they are only talking to someone who had the authority to speak for the company. After a few dozen questions about my birthday, addresses, phone numbers, blood type, favourite colour, maiden names for my great, great, great grandmothers, and my preferred toppings when ordering pizza, the young man on the other end of the phone finally agreed to speak with me.
We remained on the call for another full hour, at which point the bank employee finally agreed me with that the bank had, indeed, bounced cheques for no apparent reason. He was then delighted to advise that the bank had decided, out of the goodness of its heart, to cancel the NSF fees they had charged me. Beyond this refund, however, he admitted he had no idea why this had happened. This was little comfort to me, as it raised the obvious question as to whether the bank would do this in the future. He promised to investigate further, and even went as far as to promise to call me back, even though it was apparently “against the rules to phone a customer.” I’m not sure if he just forgot, or was caught by the bank police and executed for using the phone, but either way, I never got an answer.
With still no answers, I followed the bank’s website instructions, and fired off emails to the president, the CEO, the CFO, the C3PO, the R2D2, VP of customer service, VP in charge of small details, the CEO’s grandmother, 12 directors, 23 officers, and the janitor of the bank branch in Deer Lake, NL. In total, 88 separate emails. To date, I’ve only received one response – the janitor in Newfoundland did call, but just wanted to know more about fishing in Alberta. We had a nice chat.
(The CEO’s grandmother also called, but only to yell at Brian for being mean to her grandson’s bank.)
