A Letter To My Bank Manager
My Dear Bank Manager,
I am writing to thank you for dishonouring the cheque with which I endeavoured to pay my plumber last month. By my calculations, some three nano-seconds must have elapsed between his presenting the cheque and the arrival in my account of the funds needed to honour it.
Thank you. You have now set me on the path of fiscal righteousness!
No more will these unpleasant incidents blight our relationship, for this year I am restructuring my affairs using as my model the procedures, attitudes and conduct of your very own bank.
I can think of no greater compliment, and I know you will be excited and proud to hear it.
To this end, please be advised of the following changes:
First of all, I have noticed that while I personally attend to your telephone calls, letters, and emails promptly, I am confronted by the impersonal, ever-changing, pre-recorded, faceless entity that your bank has become when I try to contact you.
From now on, I, like you, will choose to deal only with a flesh-and-blood person.
My mortgage and loan repayments will, therefore and now, no longer be automatic, but will arrive at your bank by way of a personal cheque, addressed to an employee of your branch whom you must nominate, and delivered confidentially.
You will be aware that it is an offence under the Postal Act for any other person to open such an envelope.
I have attached an application for contact status, which I require your chosen employee to complete. I am sorry that it runs to eight pages, but, in order that I know as much about him or her as your bank knows about me, there is unfortunately no alternative.
Please note that a Justice of the Peace must countersign all copies of his/her medical history, and that the mandatory details of his/her financial situation (income, debts, assets and liabilities) must be accompanied by documented proof.
In due course, I will issue your employee with a PIN which he/she must quote in all dealings with me. I regret that it cannot be shorter than 28 digits, but again. I have modelled it on the number of button presses required to access my account balance on your phone bank service.
You will no doubt agree with me when I say, “imitation is the sincerest form of flattery”
Now, let me level the playing field even further by introducing you to my new telephone system, which you will notice is very much like yours.
My Authorised Contact at your bank is the only person with whom I will have any dealings; you may call me at any time and be answered by an automated voice.
By pressing the buttons on the phone, they will be guided through an extensive set of menus:
I) To make an appointment to see me.
2) To query a missing fee payment
3) To make a general complaint or inquiry, and so on.
The contact will often be put on hold until my automated answering service can attend to it. While this may involve a lengthy wait, uplifting music will play throughout.
This month, I have chosen “ The Best of Abba.”
Now.
On to a more serious note as we come to the question of costs.
As your bank has pointed out to me on more than one occasion, the drive for greater efficiency comes at a cost – a cost you have always been swift to pass on to me. So let me therefore repay your kindness by passing some of these costs back. to you.
Firstly there is the matter of advertising material you send unsolicited to me. I will read said literature at a fee of $20 per page. All contact, verbal or otherwise, from my assigned contact will be billed at $5 per minute.
Any debits from my account (such as the fee for the dishonoured cheque) will be passed back to you.
My automated telephone service charges 75 cents a minute (even Abba’s Greatest Hits does not come free), so I would suggest you keep your enquiries brief and to the point.
Regrettably, and again taking your lead, I must levy an establishment fee to cover the substantial costs of setting up this new, but altogether more efficient, arrangement.
On that note may I wish you a happy, if ever so slightly less prosperous financial year.
