The Incompetence of Bankers

In case you hadn't worked it out by now I am the sort of person who likes a simple life, which as far as I'm concerned is not a lot to ask.

So the fact that my bank makes banking so much more complicated that it needs to be is something that doesn't impress me much.

There is a particular account that I have had with my bank since I was old enough to open one and this account has been changed more often than Jordan's hair. However, it is something that I've put up with and got over. After all, banking bosses know best, right?

That is, until about a month ago my bank wrote a nice letter to me telling me that my account was changing again and they would be sending me a new card. In a separate letter they also told me that another account I hold with them is also changing to the same format. OK, I thought. It seemed straightforward enough and I could live with it.

Until the cards came. Some idiot had the brilliant brainwave of making these new cards identical with no way of differentiating between the two. Identical cards for two completely different accounts. Does that sound like common sense to you? My husband, fed up of me ranting about this idiocy asked me why I didn't know my account numbers as this would be enough for me to tell the cards apart. Rubbish! I've never memorised my card numbers and besides why would I need to? The little pictures on the card were always enough for me to tell the difference.

So, the bank was not really in my good books anyway and today I decided to visit my local branch to pay some money in, a task which I felt should be relatively straightforward. I was greeted at the door by a miserable looking member of staff who proceeded to tell me the bank was closing for ten/fifteen minutes for "security reasons" and could I call back then? I replied by saying I didn't have ten minutes and asked if I could use the quick pay machine, as well, it's quick pay.

Nope. I'd have to come back in ten minutes. Really annoyed with her I lost my rag a little (blame it on the hormones) and told her the bank was useless.

Ten minutes later I manged to find time to nip back before queuing up to pay my money in. I was greeted by another miserable looking member of staff. In light of the ten minute closure (which, by the way, was a huge inconvenience) and the identical bank cards I decided enough was enough and I would close my account. So once the cashier handed me my paying in book (without a smile) I asked how I go about closing an account and the conversation went something like this:

"You need to make an appointment."

"What for? I only want to close the account."

"You need to sit down and discuss it with someone and we need to either give you a cheque for the balance or transfer the money into a different account." (Translate: we're going to sit you down for an hour and try and persuade you to keep your account with us.)

"Don't worry, I'll be transferring the money across to a different account anyway. When can I make an appointment for?

"When do you want to come in?"

"Well, you tell me what you've got. I work 9 - 5."

"We open 9:30 to 4:3o."

"That's no good. What about lunchtime?"

"We don't see people over lunch."

"Well, when do you expect me to come in then?"

"Just a minute."

The cashier then proceeded to speak to another cashier who then agreed that they could see me at lunchtime after all.

Perhaps this is another clever scheme bankers have come up with. They obviously refuse to accommodate their customers which means customers must find a way of accommodating them. And who is going to take time off work just so they can close a bank account? Exactly.

Overall, I imagine it would be easier to break into Fort Knox.