I have little respect for banks and insurance companies. If you need anything from either of those institutions, you are likely to first drown in paperwork, and then spend hours navigating their convoluted and frustrating systems.
Why was it that I thought returning to a bank I had previously done business with would be easier? I must have been having a chemo moment. First they made me wait to open the account because I refuse to take time off work to do it, and on Saturday the wait time to see the right person was at least an hour, precious time I could ill afford to waste (they don't make appointments - they looked at me like I had three heads when I asked for one).
Then they made we wait 7 business days before they would let me have access to the money I deposited (out of state checks take longer to clear). Then they forgot to give me any starter checks (most places won't take them anyways) and I had to go back and get some. My debit card was being mailed to me, and the password mailed in a separate letter - neither of which arrived for 10 days. Once I did get both, I had to call three numbers to activate the darn thing.
Finally, finally, the box of checks arrived. Two boxes in fact. How delightful! A bonus. I should have known better. I opened the first box, and looked at the bank routing number and my account number. Both right. Address correct. Good to go. Or so I thought. I blithely went about writing more checks than my norm between paying final bills for CT and opening new accounts here, getting those myriad little things you need to set up housekeeping and keep body and soul together.
The bomb dropped late Saturday. The car finance company called to tell me my bank had informed them that the account had been closed. I thought they had inadvertently tried to withdraw from my CT account. I patiently explained the whole thing - repeatedly - to at least 14 people as they kept bumping me upline. I was getting pretty frosted, I have to say. The last gentleman, through gritted teeth, finally read me off the numbers and that's when the light dawned.
It *was* my new bank that was telling them my account had been closed. I could not believe it. Not only did I have to eat humble pie for being convinced that they were at fault, I couldn't talk to anyone about it because the bank was closed. He put a "note" on my account.
If more than just this place had experienced such a response from my bank, I wondered how big the problem was. According to my ledger, I had written 23 checks. 23 times penalty and late fees - yikes! This could be a huge mountain! I began to stew about it, and realized how unproductive that was. It would have to wait until Monday, no help for it.
Everytime I found my mind wanting to revolve around this little issue, I placed it in God's hands and went on to think about other things. I had to repeat that action a few times (-: In fact, I started to mention it to a few people, and they all said they had experienced similar difficulties and their banks had refused to pay the fees and penalties. They wished me well.
Monday I prepared for work, thinking in my head how I was going to storm in there and demand that they take care of this AND pay the fees, and then I remembered that I had given it to God to take care of. It was hard to resist telling God all the pieces that had to be properly addressed and that I didn't want to come out on the short end of the stick since I had done nothing wrong.
He must have smiled at how ridiculous I sounded. I knew He was more than capable of straightening it all out somehow. So in the car, just before going in, I prayed again asking that I be sent directly to the right person, then determined to be calm and pleasant. After all, I could take my business elsewhere if they didn't cooperate (God smiling again).
I signed in and sat for only a half a minute (they weren't kidding when they said no wait during the week days). This woman was indeed the right person. When she heard my statement of facts (proudly I report that I was unemotional about it), she rolled her eyes and looked at my account. Turns out that there are two little "transaction numbers" - not part of the routing number or the account number - and one of them was incorrect. Just one. One little digit. That was causing all the trouble. She took the incorrect blank checks, then asked for a list of where each check had been sent (ALL OVER!).
Patiently for the next 2.5 hours, she called each place (after I dug the number out of my daytimer, receipts, car, phone book, etc), explained the situation, and asked the best way to rectify things. We got a variety of responses. Some took the new number over the phone. Others said to mail it in attention some name in accounts/accounting. Others told us to wait until we got the letter, then just send a new check (Elaine wrote a lovely letter of explanation asking that I not be faulted for the problem). We laughed at the phone tag she played in almost every place. Several times she had to say, "But they are the ones who referred me to you." It got sillier and sillier as we tracked down each errant check. Surprisingly, once you got to the right person (an exercise in perseverance) most places agreed to waive the fees and penalties.
There were a few places where she will follow up because she got to voice mail only. I left with a few numbers to locate and bring to her, and the name of the branch manager in case Elaine had left on vacation when the letters start arriving. She paid the one place that was charging a fee, and assured me that the bank would take care of any other fees that arose from the incident. Other than wasting the better part of a rainy Monday morning, my blood pressure stayed within acceptable limits, and it turned out to be something of a lark watching someone else do battle with the big boys for a change.
Now about the reimbursement for the time spent . . .
No comments:
Post a Comment