Shown below is an actual letter that was sent to a bank by a 96-year-old
woman. The bank manager thought it amusing enough to have it published in
the New York Times.
Dear Sir:
I am writing to thank you for bouncing my check with which I endeavoured
to pay my plumber last month. By my calculations, three nanoseconds must
have elapsed between his presenting the check and the arrival in my
account of the funds needed to honour it. I refer, of course, to the
automatic monthly deposit of my entire income, an arrangement which, I
admit, has been in place for only eight years.
You are to be commended for seizing that brief window of opportunity, and
also for debiting my account $30 by way of penalty for the inconvenience
caused to your bank. My thankfulness springs from the manner in which
this incident has caused me to rethink my errant financial ways. I noticed
that whereas I personally attend to your telephone calls and letters, when
I try to contact you, I am confronted by the impersonal, overcharging,
pre-recorded, faceless entity, which your bank has become.
From now on, I, like you, choose only to deal with a flesh-and-blood
person.
My mortgage and loan repayments will therefore and hereafter no longer
be automatic, but will arrive at your bank, by cheque, addressed
personally and
confidentially to an employee at your bank whom you must nominate.
Be aware that it is an offense under the Postal Act for any other person
to
open such an envelope. Please find attached an Application Contact Status,
which I require your chosen employee to complete. I am sorry 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 no alternative. Please note that all copies of his or
her
medical history must be countersigned by a Notary Public, and 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 number, which he/she must quote in
dealings with me. I regret that it cannot be shorter than 28 digits but,
again, I have modeled it on the number of button presses required of me to
access my account balance on your phone bank service. As they say,
imitation is the sincerest form of
flattery.
Let me level the playing field even further. When you call me, press the
buttons as follows:
1. To make an appointment to see me.
2. To query a missing payment.
3. To transfer the call to my living room in case I am there.
4. To transfer th e call to my bedroom in case I am sleeping.
5. To transfer the call to my toilet in case I am attending to nature.
6. To transfer the call to my mobile phone if I am not at home.
7. To leave a message on my computer, a password to access my computer is
required. Password will be communicated to you at a later date to the
Authorized Contact.
8. To return to the main menu and to listen to options 1 through 7.
9. To make a general complaint or inquiry. The contact will then be put on
hold, pending the attention of my automated answering service. While this
may, on occasion, involve a
lengthy wait, uplifting music will play for the duration of the call.
Regrettably, but again following your example, I must also levy an
establishment fee to cover the setting up of this new arrangement.
May I wish you a happy, if ever so slightly less prosperous New Year.
Your Humble Client
(Remember: This was written by a 96-yea r-old woman. You go Girl!!!)
woman. The bank manager thought it amusing enough to have it published in
the New York Times.
Dear Sir:
I am writing to thank you for bouncing my check with which I endeavoured
to pay my plumber last month. By my calculations, three nanoseconds must
have elapsed between his presenting the check and the arrival in my
account of the funds needed to honour it. I refer, of course, to the
automatic monthly deposit of my entire income, an arrangement which, I
admit, has been in place for only eight years.
You are to be commended for seizing that brief window of opportunity, and
also for debiting my account $30 by way of penalty for the inconvenience
caused to your bank. My thankfulness springs from the manner in which
this incident has caused me to rethink my errant financial ways. I noticed
that whereas I personally attend to your telephone calls and letters, when
I try to contact you, I am confronted by the impersonal, overcharging,
pre-recorded, faceless entity, which your bank has become.
From now on, I, like you, choose only to deal with a flesh-and-blood
person.
My mortgage and loan repayments will therefore and hereafter no longer
be automatic, but will arrive at your bank, by cheque, addressed
personally and
confidentially to an employee at your bank whom you must nominate.
Be aware that it is an offense under the Postal Act for any other person
to
open such an envelope. Please find attached an Application Contact Status,
which I require your chosen employee to complete. I am sorry 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 no alternative. Please note that all copies of his or
her
medical history must be countersigned by a Notary Public, and 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 number, which he/she must quote in
dealings with me. I regret that it cannot be shorter than 28 digits but,
again, I have modeled it on the number of button presses required of me to
access my account balance on your phone bank service. As they say,
imitation is the sincerest form of
flattery.
Let me level the playing field even further. When you call me, press the
buttons as follows:
1. To make an appointment to see me.
2. To query a missing payment.
3. To transfer the call to my living room in case I am there.
4. To transfer th e call to my bedroom in case I am sleeping.
5. To transfer the call to my toilet in case I am attending to nature.
6. To transfer the call to my mobile phone if I am not at home.
7. To leave a message on my computer, a password to access my computer is
required. Password will be communicated to you at a later date to the
Authorized Contact.
8. To return to the main menu and to listen to options 1 through 7.
9. To make a general complaint or inquiry. The contact will then be put on
hold, pending the attention of my automated answering service. While this
may, on occasion, involve a
lengthy wait, uplifting music will play for the duration of the call.
Regrettably, but again following your example, I must also levy an
establishment fee to cover the setting up of this new arrangement.
May I wish you a happy, if ever so slightly less prosperous New Year.
Your Humble Client
(Remember: This was written by a 96-yea r-old woman. You go Girl!!!)
Comment