Ran by the bank yesterday to resolve a small issue — the following is pretty much how my day went:
Me: Hi, My name is Bob S. I need help with a problem with my new debit card.
Willing But Clueless Employee (WBCE): Sure I can help you with that. What seems to be the problem?
(note this was at the reception area with absolutely NO place to sit down)
Me: Well, here are my new card and my old card; perhaps you might be able to see the problem:
WBCE: Well, the font is different.
WBCE: The card number is the same.
WBCE: The expiration date is different
Me: Perhaps you could check out the name?
WBCE: hmmm……………………………………………………….Oh, the name is different.
Me: Yeah, that’s my wife’s name on my card.
And then the real fun started. She had to call the proper person — and in the midst of loudly announcing my name, the issue I’m having; she whispers my account number. I’m the only non-employee in the bank at the time.
She runs through the process and generates a receipt for me to sign for my new card.
With my wife’s birthday listed on the receipt.
She runs through the process again and generates a receipt for me to sign for my new card.
With my wife’s name on the card.
Finally a manager came out, stood over her shoulder and walked her through the process again. All the while I’m standing there trying to remind myself that even good banks can have marginal employees or people can have a bad day.
It wasn’t easy and I will neither confirm nor deny that colorful sentence enhancers’ may have been involved in the conversation I had with myself.