Kira
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Below is an actual letter sent to a bank. 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 salary, an arrangement which, admit, has only been in place for eight years. You are to be commended for seizing that brief window of opportunity, and also for debiting my account ÂŁ50 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 check, addressed personally and confidentially to an employee at your bank whom you must nominate.
Be aware that it is an offence under the Postal Act for any other
person to open such an envelope. Please find attached an Application for Authorised 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 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 modelled it on the number of button presses required 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. Press 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 the 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 at a later date to
the Authorised Contact.
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
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 salary, an arrangement which, admit, has only been in place for eight years. You are to be commended for seizing that brief window of opportunity, and also for debiting my account ÂŁ50 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 check, addressed personally and confidentially to an employee at your bank whom you must nominate.
Be aware that it is an offence under the Postal Act for any other
person to open such an envelope. Please find attached an Application for Authorised 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 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 modelled it on the number of button presses required 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. Press 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 the 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 at a later date to
the Authorised Contact.
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