Despite my last entry, I am now going to tell you a tale. It’s the tale of getting your bank to credit you for money that’s in your account, against a fraudulent charge which they caught as fraudulent.
Yesterday, I talked to a nice-enough woman from the debit card fraud division. She told me that I would get a form in the mail, and that I could fill out the form and send it back and that would be my official claim against the bank. I said, “Ok. Will do.” Subsequent to that, there would be something like four biz days before they had to decide on it, and then I might get my money back within three weeks.
I expressed astonishmenet at this length of time, but she reassured me that it probably wouldn’t take that long.
“And, in fact… Do you have a fax machine?” “No…” “Well, do you have a branch nearby? You could go to the branch and have them call me and I could fax the form to them. Then they can fax the form back to me.” I agreed this would be a good idea, in order to expedite the process. Unfortunately, I didn’t make it to the bank in the half hour left for that day, so I went today.
Apparently, this process is not, I repeat, NOT standard procedure. The customer service person was busy signing some newlyweds into indentured servitude at 0%, so I talked to a teller.
The thing about tellers is that you tell them something even remotely unusual, and they have to go consult with their manager. So when I approached with a ream of paperwork and said, “Hi. I have to work out some problems with someone using my debit card number…” I didn’t even get to finish the sentence before she rushed off to her manager to ask about it. Then I said, “…and Diane over in Debit Fraud wants you to call her so she can fax you the form, so I can…” And then she excused herself and went off again to the manager.
Other tellers gathered around, it being a slow day. They chatted with me while my teller was gone. They looked at my paperwork. I glanced over my shoulder, and the customer service person, the one behind the desk with the computer who could actually help me, was still convincing young couples that debt is good.
The manager came and dealt with my directly. I had to tell her the whole story again, the instruction to fax the form back and forth, and so on. Then came the arbitrary social reciprocity where she had to tell me a story about the time she helped some guy who had his card stolen and so on and so forth. And finally she was on the phone with Diane over in Debit Fraud.
She was making gag-me faces as she obviously tried with difficulty to be civil. When she hung up, she said, “Those debit card fraud people are RUDE!” Thanks, Ms. Manager.
Anyway. Then the waiting game began. “Would you like some coffee?” “Do you have a water fountain?” “Yes, there behind the home mortgages stand-up display.” “Thank you.”
I waited 20 minutes. No fax. I observed the comings and goings of the bank: Some guy getting into his safe-deposit box, a woman with questions about how to endorse her check, minor horseplay among the tellers when no one (but me) was around. Stuff like that. No fax.
I make eye contact across the bank…. ? The reply…. .
I have a cell phone! I keep forgetting I have one of those. I dial up the 800 number for Debit Fraud. I punch in Diane’s extension, and I’m on hold.
Not just any hold. I’m on the most annoying hold ever to exist. Seriously. I am completely convinced that they designed it to be annoying in order to get people to hang up. Absurdly perky big-band music that is VERY VERY LOUD. Interrupted every 15 seconds or so by one of three voices which tell me that, among other things, “No one should have to wait on hold very long. That’s why we’ll be with you in just a moment…” Another one says, and keep in mind this is a completely different voice, “We’re working hard to please you. Customer satisfaction is our number one concern. You’ll find out what that means if you just stay on the line…” I mean, seriously. That’s actually what it says.
And then, the third voice pops in from time to time, interrupting the other voices. Since it’s interrupting the other voices, you expect it to be a live human being. But no, it says something like, “We are experiencing wait times of two minutes. Please stay on the line. We appreciate your business, SUCKER.”
It doesn’t actually say ‘sucker.’
So I’m on hold with a crowd of people. There are four of us. We could play bridge. This goes on for another 5 minutes. I am going to stay on hold, just to see how this all turns out.
Finally, a human comes on: Diane isn’t available, for lo, she is away from her desk. Verily. And I say unto thee, I did smite this unbeliever! “So, like, I’m a customer and I’ve been waiting half an hour at a branch for you to fax a little piece of paper to me so that I can sign it and fax it back to you, so could you please get your shit together and fax that fucker over here so I can put my John goddamn Hancock on it and fax that bitch back into your grubby little hands so I can get on with my poor excuse for a life?”
I didn’t actually say ‘fucker.’ In fact, it was more like just trying to convey the story yet again to someone who didn’t really care.
The story gets predictable right about here. The bank manager is approaching me with fresh-off-the-fax-machine paperwork just as the poor woman whose life I’ve made miserable by demanding that she do her job is telling me they tried to fax it three times.
Now, I want to go on an aside here for a paragraph. See, all of my account information is on all three of those faxes. Sure, they’re sending the faxes to a branch, and you’d assume that’s a safe destination, and if banks were really concerned about security, they’d all grind to a halt with safeguards and redundancy checks. But dammit, I just had my acount info stolen, and I don’t want to hear that the people investigating it just faxed that same info three times to a fax machine without calling to find out what the problem is.
Anyway. I got the piece of paper, and there were two notable facts about it: 1) Diane had reduced the number of fraudulent charges from three to two, and changed the dates on them, necessitating some editing, and 2) Point one aside, I had just waited half an hour to check a box and sign my name.
(And also because I played French horn in school.)