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This is a question Banks

Your Ginger Fuhrer froths, "I hate my bank. Not because of debt or anything but because I hate being sold to - possibly pathologically so - and everytime I speak to them they try and sell me services. Gold cards, isas, insurance, you know the crap. It drives me insane. I ALREADY BANK WITH YOU. STOP IT. YOU MAKE ME FRIGHTED TO DO MY NORMAL BANKING. I'm angry even thinking about them."

So, tell us your banking stories of woe.

No doubt at least one of you has shagged in the vault, shat on a counter or thrown up in a cash machine. Or something

(, Thu 16 Jul 2009, 13:15)
Pages: Latest, 14, 13, 12, 11, 10, 9, 8, 7, ... 1

This question is now closed.

I want my money back!!
On the 16th May I took out a loan to pay off my Credit Card with my bank and told them to cancel the Direct Debit that was being used to pay the Credit Card off. The mongoloid I spoke said that I was 100 quid in credit on my account, I asked for this to be refunded into my bank account, he said this would be done "that day".

A week later I received a credit card statement in the post and to be utter disbelief the 100 quid was still there!!! To cut a long story short, it is 20th July and I have not received my money back. I have gone to the Financial Ombudsman and demanded interest and compensation for the inconvenience caused!!!
(, Mon 20 Jul 2009, 20:46, 5 replies)
change of name
A while back I attempted to change my name and address (I was moving to a place far far away where Santa lives) and went in to my bank with the relevant paperwork.

2 months later I still hadn't received my new card at my new address, and I had been told by my parents that they were still receiving letters in my old name.

I rang up the bank, and politely asked wtf was going on. They told me that they were aware I had come into the branch and dealt with Mrs "Obviously-too-fucking-thick-to-deal-with-peoples-bank-accounts", but she had not sent these files to head office.

A moment of silence.

"Can you send them to the head office then please?"
"No, we need you to come in and re-fill the paperwork"
"Can you pay for my flights back to England so i can pop in?"
"..........You live outside of the UK?"
"Yes, I have been trying to change my name and address with you for 2 months, and you have the files in your hand"
"Well obviously we can't pay for your flights, but you should check your bank balance online as I see you have been going over drawn and there are several hundred pounds of charges to come off next month"
"I don't need to use an online service to check my account, nor do I need to use telephone banking, it's not in my contract, where as You sending my statements, cards and all other letters to my correct address is"


"But you should use the internet....."
"And can i trust your service to be reliable and secure? As you may be aware you have sent my letters to the wrong address and my card and pin number"
"We would never knowingly do that"
"Which country do i live in?"
"How long have you known?"
"2 months"
"Where have you been sending my letters for 2 months?"
"long long address ending in... England"

"Sooooo... You can't get the country right"

This went on for a while. Eventually I was told that I wouldn't be charged for their mistake, and that when I am next in England I should pop in and sort it out.

I didn't use my card here in Finland as there was a) fuck all money on it and b) I don't feel right using a card that is not in my name (in Finland anything over €50 requires ID and my ID is in my new name)

7 months later, My parents had told me that they were receiving calls from the bailiffs regarding my account. They had told the bailiffs where to go (with the relevant legal terms) and the bailiffs apologised for the phone call and never bothered them again.

I couldn't believe it. I happened to be going back to England so I made an appointment with my bank manageress for the first morning I was back in England.

I went in, and was as polite as possible, but obviously rather annoyed. I got my new name and new address, but the charges were staying, or so i thought. My bank manager (who had actually only started working there 2 weeks previous) told me what to put in a letter to their head office and gave me the fax number to get it there avoiding Royal Mail.

Within a week, all charges (which had some how gotten up to £800, after i had the original charges taken off and not touched the card after) were put back and waiting for me when i got back was a letter from my bank to my new name and at my new address.

That was a year ago, and still nothing has arrived since. I haven't used the card since, but got a phone call (or rather a voice mail) saying that there seemed to be problems with my account. I rang back, and they said that it was all charges. After i had them dropped, got my account to £0.00 with no overdraft.

I'm going back in a few weeks. And have already booked a meeting with my bank manageress.

The Shitty Bank really do suck... and can see why they just use the first letters of their name.

Sorry for lack of funny. No wait, fuck it, I'm not.

I do apologise for the bad spelling but I went to a school in INGEEEEEERLAAAAHND
(, Mon 20 Jul 2009, 20:29, Reply)
Signed, Hank
I worked in a bank when I was a naïve 19 year old. I hated working there for many reasons, but mostly it was the dress code; stockings, heels and skirts, really annoyed me. Pantyhose just make me want to scratch my ass and standing in a pair of pumps all day is murder on your arches.

As I was working the lobby window one day, a man came in, handed me some cash through the Plexiglas window and told me to give him rolled change in exchange for the wad of cash. Yes, how shocking I know. But at the conclusion of the “currency” portion of our transaction, he handed me another slip of paper, a deposit slip torn in half. Now, I was young and green, but even I knew that when a nervous man slips you a note and you’re a bank teller, maybe you should hit the deck. I didn’t though, instead I read the note right there in front of him. The note read, “What’s under that skirt? Signed, Hank”

Oooh, this was exciting. I looked up and Hank was walking out of the lobby. I wanted to call out for him, make some excuse that he had forgotten his receipt or something, but I was frozen, and he walked out onto the busy street outside.

I thought about Hank constantly. I volunteered to work the lobby window every day, sometimes even covering lobby and drive thru myself just so I would be able to see him again.
Finally, 12 days later, Hank walked in again and I almost ran to the window. He was calm cool and collected, passed me the cash through the window same as before. And again, when we were done, he passed me a note, “What’s under that skirt?”

Okay, now I was officially hot for Hank. Before he left this time though, I stopped him, “When can I show you?” was all I said. He looked me in the eye, turned and walked out the door.

What the fuck?

Again, I anxiously await Hank’s return. This time, it was 10 days later. Same thing. Same note. Same exit.

This guy was driving me crazy! A week later he came in and I stopped him before he handed me the cash. I said, “Hank, when do you want to find out the answer to your question?”

He said, “How about right now?” This perplexed me, because we were, after all, in a bank during the middle of the day. I was hoping for a late supper and candlelit bath perhaps.

Hank repeated what he’d said, and then slipped me another note, “I know what’s under that skirt and it’s not brains, now get a fucking bag and fill it with cash. Right fucking now.”

I froze. I was frozen. Completely frozen. I didn’t know what to despite being trained in this sort of scenario by bank management. I tried to speak but I couldn’t. Before I knew it, Hank was grabbed from behind by our enormous security guard and thrown to the ground. Someone else got spooked by Hank or saw my reaction and rang the silent alarm as I stood there paralyzed for what felt like an eternity. The local police came, the state police came, even a local FBI field agent showed up. I was interrogated by ALL of them and even though I didn’t know Hank, it was determined I had prior knowledge of his intent and I was fired.

Hank, on the off chance that you’re reading this, I’d still like to show you what’s under my skirt.
(, Mon 20 Jul 2009, 20:23, 13 replies)
I have read all your horror stories and sympathise, but I have found banking with natwest fantastic, firstly a few years ago I was in a relationship with a crappy cheating nasty fuckwit of a partner who after begging me to move in with him (so giving up my own lully house and most of my belongings) decided 12 months later that it wasn't working out and I was thusly rendered homeless!!!
I didn't have a bank account at the time as I was on benefits before I moved in with him (long story about depression and agoraphobia)so I had been receiving benefit which was paid via the post office, so now faced with being made homeless (how does an agoraphobic person find a new place to live??? well luckily I have a fab sister who did all the ground work for me and eventually drove me to my new place.... but I digress)... I now am faced with having to contact the benefits agency and explain to them that I needed to make a claim as I was now single, homeless and still very much agoraphobic, I also needed to open a bank account as thats how the benefits agency wanted to pay me - Oh no, fucksticks!!!!!
I called numerous banks but was told by every single one of them I'd have to go in person to open an account, no amount of tearful begging and pleading would sway them, that is until I called natwest and having explained my situation to a lovely lady called Pam, she sent out some paperwork for me to fill in and I scanned a couple of utility bills and my sis posted them off - hey presto basic account all set up and ready to go!!!! Some time later I went over my limit with them due to an asda delivery payment not leaving my account until 6 months after I had received the groceries (and then promptly spent the money believing Asda would never find out ... they did) and when I spoke to another helpful person she waived the £18 charge ... So I really can't complain about the good people at natwest because in my case at least, they have been wonderful!

Sorry for lack of funnies but I just wanted to redress the balance, not all bank employees are the spawn of satan, some of them are just really very nice! x
(, Mon 20 Jul 2009, 19:58, Reply)
I've not read entry so far
but most of them I have, and hey all seem to reference UK banks. Are non-UK banks really that ace, or do people not like to complain about them?
(, Mon 20 Jul 2009, 18:31, 3 replies)
.... at the risk of sounding smug, my bank First Direct, are aces.

Someone nicked my card details and was spending my money. One phone call.

'which transactions are faudulent sir?'
'this one, this one, this one, and this one.'
'right, that's all reimbursed to you.'

'Blimey, that was easy' I thought. And it was.
(, Mon 20 Jul 2009, 18:22, Reply)
I have banked with Smile.co.uk for ages now and never had a problem
However I had my mortgage with Abbey National.

Now about 4 years ago my lovely tiny introductory interest rate was about to run out.
I noticed that Abbey we advertising an equally new and exciting rate. So I wandered into the branch and asked the man if I could transfer to that rate. "No, that's new customers only" quoth he. (this was before the Nationwide ads). "But I have not missed a payment in two years, please let me have that". "New-customers-only, now shove off".

So off I shoved and got a new mortgage lined up at Nationwide. I contacted Abbey and asked for the balance I owed.
They sent this to me and it included a £99 redemption fee. Fair enough, they had told me about this at the start.
Paperwork in place I left it to Nationwide and Abbey to sort it out.
On the day the re-mortgage took place I got a letter from Abbey and noticed that the fee had gone up to £200.
With no other option I paid up, even though the fee had changed from what they had quoted only days before.

Once the re-mortgage had gone through I wrote to Abbey and said I thought it was rather shitty of them to up the fee without a good reason or mentioning it.
Their reply was 'Tough shit, we'll do what we want'.

About a year later the Guardian Money section ran a story about these charges and how it wasn't right. They had online a letter you could download, fill in your details and get your money back.

So I did this and got the £101 back.

Sorry for lack of funnys, or any kind of interest really, but I did get my own back on Abbey. Cunts.
(, Mon 20 Jul 2009, 17:49, 2 replies)
old but good
(, Mon 20 Jul 2009, 17:33, 1 reply)
Oh dear oh dear
Reading through all of this is making me distinctly nervous, you know.

I got married at the beginning of May. We were distinctly skint as a result of organising the wedding, having bought a house together a year and a half earlier, just as the whole credit crunch thing began to bite, which was already full of more crap than we know what to do with, plus becoming quite ill myself only a couple of months after buying said house, resulting in a good six months of struggling by on only his salary.

Accordingly, we decided to just ask for money in lieu of any wedding presents to help get ourselves into a slightly better financial situation and maybe do some of the work on the house that was so badly needed (it was a bit dilapidated when we bought it, compounded by the fact the kitchen ceiling had caved in over Christmas). This all worked rather well and we came out of our wedding reception with a couple of grand's worth of cheques.

Working as an administrator for a financial adviser, I was quite familiar with the fiddly ins and outs of processing a change of name and had debated whether or not it was worth it (we have one client who has been married a good 6 years now, and some of her accounts are still in her maiden name as it has been so difficult getting them changed). I decided to go with it in the end as I would have felt it was an insult to my husband and his family not to (we are all very traditional in that respect), my family is huge and there is no danger of that line dying out, and, quite frankly, I was already fed up with signing Washington at least a dozen times a day (Davis is so much shorter!).

So, I made sure I was prepared by requesting an additional copy of the marriage certificate from the registry office (a shocking number of utility companies will no longed accept a certified copy of these documents so insist on the original, only to lose it the minute it enters their administration centre), and I took this additional marriage certificate and all the cheques with us on honeymoon to Cornwall in order to try and start to get this sorted while we were away.

We popped into the local branch of our bank (Halifax) in St Ives to get the name change registered and pay in our cheques. I should have really expected this, but the branch in St Ives was one of those crappy ones that's not hooked into the central computer system, so they couldn't do the name change, so we paid in all the cheques we could (ones in my maiden name or in his name only) and decided to sort the rest when we got back home. Which I duly did, by popping into our local branch on the day we returned, on my lunch break, with the original mariage certificate and the cheques, so I could pay them in when it was done. The woman at the customer service desk was very helpful, took my marriage certificate and scanned it onto their system, logged the name change and ordered me a new bank card and cheque book. Great stuff. I then went to the normal till so I could pay in the rest of the cheques (the ones in my married name). I wasn't too sure that I'd be able to do it same day, but lo and behold, the cheques were paid inno problem!

Now, two busy weeks later, I realise I haven't received a thing. I log onto my online banking, and the cheques are showing as paid in OK, but I notice it still says my maiden name at the top. I pop back into my local branch on my lunch break again to query this - they log onto the system and can see absolutely no trace of me having come in to change my name, so I go through the whole process again. As we're going through, the woman at the customer service desk (different woman, more senior this time) starts pulling some very odd faces at what's coming up on screen. Now, bear in mind that I have my (joint) current account, mortgage and life insurance for the mortgage all with the Halifax - she can't find me listed on their system at all. The current account is showing, but in my husband's name only.

Eventually, she unravels the catalogue of errors that led to this situation, starting from the first day I walked into the branch to set up my account. This was when we were first looking at getting a house together. For simplicity's sake, we decided to get me added onto his existing current account and get all our money put into that account, on a temporary basis. We'd shopped around for a mortgage and Halifax were the only people who would lend us enough to feasibly buy anything locally (on account of neither of us having gone anywhere near a credit card or hire purchase scheme, we had no credit rating at all - having a £50k deposit from all the saving we'd done apparently counts for nothing). My husband's having banked with Halifax from birth counted in our favour (nothing of the sort from my similar situation with Barclays, but I'll get to that in another response!) so we put all our resources into that account to make it a little easier, until we were sorted and we could divvy the money that remained out again into savings accounts elsewhere. On this occasion, the chap who set this up didn't actually know how to do this on the computer system, so wrote a note on the file requesting this was done at the central administration centre, and added my details onto the file as the first line of the address. Surprise, surprise, this wasn't picked up and wasn't done. Ever. So I wasn't registered as one of the account holders. Despite this, I somehow received a card with my name on, got my work to change my pay to go into that account, and set up all the direct debits for household bills etc (which are in my name, as I knew I would be the one doing all the papework and making any phone calls as necessary) from that account. Oh, and had been paying in cheques in my name (both names, that is). I'd even managed to set up online banking for the account, again in my name only (after months of nagging my husband to let me do so, as it was the only way I'd found I could keep a decent eye on our finances).

This had not been queried in that year and a half, despite me being responsible for the majority of activity on the account, paying cheques in at least monthly, etc. etc. It had clearly been noticed, due to the mammoth workarounds evident that had been done to make the aforementioned list of things that should not have been possible work, but not a single person has bothered to spend the extra few minutes correcting it. The woman this time was fantastic, incredibly apologetic, and spent half an hour correcting all of this in front of me. I had to laugh when we got to the end of it and she said "Oh... it does look like at least your new card was ordered... they just forgot to click "Confirm" at the end of it".

All well and good, I hear you say? Well, this is where you lot making me paranoid comes in - it's two weeks later and I've realised I've not had my new card, and the old one has stopped working. I've asked my husband if he's noticed it come through the post and he says I did have some post from Halifax last week, but it was a load of leaflets trying to sell me stuff and "a new terms and conditions booklet for our current account", so he binned it straight away. I'm pretty certain that my new card was enclosed (from the presence of the terms and conditions booklet) but was in amongst so many leaflets that he couldn't see it. Now, I face a dilemma - clearly, I need to cancel that card and order a new one, in case some unscrupulous sort has fished it out of our rubbish. Normally, I would pop into the branch from work and sort it out in person. However, I've been signed off from work for the week with a suspected case of swine flu (which I don't believe I have, but my work is so hyper-aware of it that my normal hayfever symptoms, high body temperature and fatgue from being worked so bloody hard got me sent home - and of course my doctor won't see me to confirm I'm well enough to work because of this), so am not in town. I don't drive, live a fair way off the bus route, and besides, my old card now no longer works so I can't get the money out to pay for it. Plus if any of my colleagues spotted me in town when signed off sick, I'd probably be sacked. So - phone up and do it? Land line is on the fritz and I can't make outgoing calls. My mobile is pay as you go and my credit would be rinsed before I even got to speak to anyone. The remaining option is to wait for my husband to get home, borrow his phone and do it that way - only I'm now convinced that they will completely stop our account, which still has every penny we have in it, leaving us high and dry until they deign to sort it out, which from reading through could well be months...

So, I've transferred some money across to my emergency Barclays account in case the worst happens. My fun and games with THEM will be detailed in another post. Phew, that was a lot of typing - well done (and my sympathies) if you bothered to read all the way through!

Update: I was right to be nervous - my husband came home last night and informed me his card's stopped working!
(, Mon 20 Jul 2009, 17:19, 9 replies)
How to lose a customer
*sound of bell as door to branch opens*

Banker: Hello, welcome to Nationwide Building Society, how may I help you?

TBS: Hello there, I am moving my life savings from their current place of rest as I want to return to the better value and more pleasant approach to customer service that I will get from a mutual building society. I have here a cheque for 10 grand that I wish to deposit in a new savings account with you.

Banker: Certainly, I will need proof of ID and proof of address, do you have these with you?

TBS: Yes, here is my UK passport, and here is a statement from my bank showing that they are providing financial services to me at my current address, thus satisfying all FSA regulations.

Banker: Ah, I'm sorry. We only accept bank statements as proof of ID, not address. Here is a list of the items we will accept as proof of address.

TBS: Let me see. Gas or electricity bill? No, mine are paperless accounts as I save money this way, so I cannot offer you those. Landline phone bill? The same. Heavily discounted if I save the company having to post them to me. Mortgage statement? No, I live in London am not in the top 2% of earners. I only rent. Water bill? All dealt with via the service charges for my apartment block. Council tax bill? Generated by people who do not speak English and so consistently sent to "Mr Cheeseburgerfelch" rather than my real name of "Mr Cheesebuggerfelch" and despite many requests to change this they are unable to tell the difference. I don't expect you to accept this as proof and will not insult you by trying. Is there no way my bank statement will suffice? It says who I am and where I live.

Banker: No, these are our rules and I will stick to them rigidly and am not prepared even to make a telephone call to find out from my superiors why they are so restrictive and if any exception at all can be made. The FSA may well say that a bank statement is an acceptable proof of address, but we are NATIONWIDE and we do things our way and you will lie back and take it bitch.

TBS: But if you don't try to assist me with this problem, I will walk out of this branch never to return, thus depriving you of a five figure deposit and potentially further sums, also I will remove any chance you yourself have of getting the sales commission for signing up a new customer. Is this something you are comfortable with?

Banker: I'm sorry. Is there anything else I can help you with today?

TBS: Goodbye.

True story. Proof at:

(, Mon 20 Jul 2009, 17:16, 5 replies)
to a car accident a couple of years ago I lost my job and was unable to work. I couldn't pay my bills so was forced to join up with a debt management company to help me pay reduced sums to the banks - I don't like doing this, but I want to pay back what I owe. I'm not going to run away from the debt, but I needed the banks to understand my earning capacity had altered drastically and I still needed to eat and keep a roof over my head.

Two and a half years later and the banks are still refusing to listen. They ignore letters with payment plan proposals. They continue to charge me the Earth. But rather than transfer the debt to a collections agency, they'd rather keep it. Keeping me in limbo, adding on the interest and the charges. And there's bugger all I can do about it.

I really don't like banks.
(, Mon 20 Jul 2009, 17:14, 5 replies)
Drunken, stoned, moronic student layabout...
It was a Friday, I surface bleary eyed out of my room at 11am to already find one of my flatmates stoned out of his tree. ‘That’s the day for me’ I thought, and lectures for the day are instantly forgotten, as I settle in to join him in watching a show about rich American High School students starring Luke Perry and Tori Spelling (you know the one, don’t make me admit to it in full).
A few hours later we’re in a beer garden and my pockets are empty so I stagger off to the nearest cash point to fund the remainder of the day.

I enter my PIN. Incorrect.

I enter it again. Incorrect.

I enter it again. Incorrect. Card retained.

Fuck this, thinks I. I know there is money in there, so what is going on? And I march into the branch determined to get some money, furious that their incompetence has me in serious danger of sobering up. I queue, still furious and I eventually get to the counter to have it politely explained to me that it is very obvious that I incorrectly entered my PIN.

Now, I am having none of this, I'd had the account five years, I knew the PIN, I knew there was money in the account, so I knew I was right and the snotty little shit was wrong. And I told him so. But he was adamant.

Now, monumentally peeved, and not 100% compos mentis, I took it upon myself to prove to the arrogant bastard that I knew my PIN and I damn well wanted my money. So I grabbed a pen and paper and scrawled it down before shoving it across the counter.

I will give the man his credit, he didn't bat an eyelid as he slid the paper back across to me and said very calmly

'Sir, this can't be your PIN, you see a PIN only has four digits. May I also take it upon myself to suggest that maybe you watch too much bad telly'?

And I looked at the piece of paper, where I had very clearly written:


I don't think I even had the decency to apologise before I ran out of the door, I was so embarrassed.
(, Mon 20 Jul 2009, 17:14, 4 replies)
Shabby National Fucksacks
Had an account with Abbey years ago. They charged me lots. I claimed charges back and won, then closed the account.
Abbey were upset. They posted a default on my credit file. I asked them to remove it. They posted it with all 3 credit ref agencies. I asked them to substantiate it or remove it. They did neither.
I read the law and am now taking them to court. Sent them a final letter offering them to resolve issue and avoid litigation.
They phoned me this week. I asked them to remove false default info. They said "no". I asked if they had Default Notice, a legal requirement. They said "no". I asked what they would do when the judge asked them to present it...they weren't sure.
So, if you hold shares in Abbey, sell them. They are a bunch of useless, lying, ignorant, stupid, timewasting, moneywasting cunts.
I'm suing them for £5,000. I will win.
(, Mon 20 Jul 2009, 17:04, Reply)
The company I work for has a business account at a huge, greedy, obnoxious and litigous bank which, out of deference to their vampirical legal staff, I shall henceforth refer to as B*A. So when I get a check every other Monday afternoon from our accounting department, it is drawn on an account at B*A. Now if you are married, you probably know that it's a good idea to have separate checking accounts for you and your spouse instead of one joint checking account; that way you can keep track of your balances and you avoid overdrafts. My checking account is at an excellent local credit union, my wife's account, alas, is at B*A.

What I used to do on payday, that is Monday, is take my paycheck down to the nearest branch office of B*A and deposit it in my wife's checking account, taking out some cash. I would then go to the credit union and deposit that cash in my checking account. Sounds pretty foolproof, right? Here's how that worked out. I'd deposit a check drawn on a B*A account on Monday afternoon. My wife would go to the grocery store on Thursday night and pay for groceries with a paper check. And the check would promptly bounce; B*A consistently would not credit her account with a deposit drawn from a B*A business account until Friday morning, whereas they'd debit her account for a paper check written to a grocery store within minutes of her handing it to the checkout girl. So she'd end up paying a $35 overdraft fee to B*A, plus a $25 bad-check fee to the grocery store.

I could sort of understand the delay in crediting her account if the paycheck were drawn on an account at a different bank; they would presumably be waiting to see if this check actually cleared before adding it to the account. But I couldn't understand why it would take B*A four days to verify that a check drawn on a B*A account was good. Since the source account was in their own computer, it seems to me it should have taken no more than four seconds. But whatever. So I moved to Plan B. Instead of going to her bank first, I'd go to my credit union first, deposit the check, take out a few hundred in U.S. currency, and take those few hundred dollars over to the B*A for deposit. (Incidentally, whenever I deposited a paycheck at the credit union, the entire amount was available immediately. Yay credit union!) Guess what. When I deposited cash on Monday night, they still didn't credit her account until Friday. I guess they had to make sure those twenty-dollar bills didn't bounce.
(, Mon 20 Jul 2009, 16:46, 1 reply)
My first bank account
I remember when I got my first bank account - well building society actually, but it's all the same really. I had a little book which the nice lady at the local branch wrote my deposits and withdrawals in by hand. How exciting it was when they got a special machine which printed it automatically on the right line!

Anyway, I was so thrilled about this little book that when I got it I read it forwards and backwards several times. It didn't say much, but one line read 'You will be asked to quote your account number when making a transaction'. So I spent all the afternoon remembering my 10-digit account code by heart. And I was very disappointed when they never once asked me for it, preferring to just look in the little book. I can still remember it now, 30 years or so later.
(, Mon 20 Jul 2009, 16:19, Reply)
In Alnwick

Deepest Northumberland.

I was in the bank, waiting in the queue for my turn when this guy (who'd been standing patiently in line for ten minutes) marched up to the counter.

"Do I look like a bitch?" he asked the teller aggressively.


"I said - DO. I. LOOK. LIKE. A. BITCH????"

Me and the guy behind me looked at each other.

"Pulp Fiction?" he whispered

"Yup" I said keenly anticipating the next few sentences. I was silently begging her to say "What?"

Sadly, what actually happened was that two male staff walked up to the guy and said he had to leave and escorted him out of the bank. Without a peep.

He was white, about 5' 6'' tall and couldn't have weighed more than 7 stone, soaking wet.....

But I had to give him 8/10 for effort.

(, Mon 20 Jul 2009, 15:50, 1 reply)
I'd like to change banks but then I'd lose my £1000 overdraft facility which I've recently paid off.
But goddamit, I can't stop thinking that it's my money and if I left then I'd never see it again.
(, Mon 20 Jul 2009, 15:50, 1 reply)
i work at Natwest
...I do lots of important jobs, like making sure the cash machine is full.

...and I'll make sure I put plenty in, because on Saturday night, I'll be on the other side of the wall.

It's not all work, work, work.
(, Mon 20 Jul 2009, 15:43, 5 replies)
Bank bastards
When I was a student I opened an account with a well known high street bank. They gave me an overdraft of £600 which came in very handy and generally things were ok. I left uni, and about six months after I was on the dole and I get a letter from the bank saying that I was overdrawn by about £400 and i should it pay immediately.

Thats strange, I thought, because when I created the account the bank said that the overdraft would continue after I left full time education. I rang them, told them this but they refused to believe me and because I couldnt find the letter proving that the overdraft was authorised they said they would take me to court. You might have thought that they would have a record of this, but oh no. After muchos persuading they agreed to take £5 a week out of my £43 dole which was nice of them, and although it left me completely strapped it was a relief to finally get them off my back.

So, after about 3 months I find the letter authorising the overdraft, go into the bank absolutely fuming at the shit they had given me. The cold faced bitch behind the counter checked the letter, sent a copy to somewhere out there in bank land and then said ok, we'll forget about the £5 arrangement. No apology, nothing. The ironic thing is that now im earning a fair whack in IT, they keep sending me applications for loans and credit cards and they're as nice as pie to me. You can f**k right off, the bank that sounds like Boyds
(, Mon 20 Jul 2009, 15:40, Reply)
we've all had the urge to do this...

my favourite part is:

Angela Bruwer, Absa's public relations general manager, said she was aware of Manamela's statement that 15 snakes had been released, but said she was confident there had been only five puff adders - and that all had been caught.


You won't extend my overdraft? Very well - RELEASE THE SNAKES!
(, Mon 20 Jul 2009, 15:29, 4 replies)
I COULD have...
I used to work as a foreign exchange cashier for a private bank that only dealt with high net worth individuals, some of whom had Swiss-stylee 'numbered accounts' with no name attached.

Some of these individuals may or may not have been a bit dodgy. One of them used to pay in every single European currency (when they were seperate) along with US Dollars on a weekly basis, many thousands of each currency. He also never counted the money properly. Just sort of guesstimated it. If I hadn't been afraid of getting caught, and basically being an honest person, I could have skimmed off the excess from his paying in slips and had a whale of a time at his expense.

The first week I was there, while I was still being trained, I took USD 6,000 and what I thought was a client's account number to pay the money into his account at a US branch. The account number was wrong but I didn't know that til after he'd gone. As far as I know he never missed the money and it's still sat in a holding account waiting for him to come and collect it with the useless receipt I gave him...

Sorry, random American Gentleman.

Another client was a member of the aristocracy who was famed for liking a bit of the marching powder. He'd come in for his coke money. You knew when he was on a bender as his withdrawal slip looked like Michael J Fox had written it. Off his tits. But very polite.
(, Mon 20 Jul 2009, 15:08, 1 reply)
A new account, coffee and a bit of oral sex...
I'd decided I wanted to open a new savings account and after scanning a few of the comparison websites, Halifax was to be my chosen bank (also aided by the fact that of all the banks, The Halifax is closest to where I live).

Working throughout the week and not wanting to waste my precious weekends, I thought it best to venture to Halifax during a lunch break, giving me 50 minutes to queue, hand over the already filled in application form and ID (including a utlilty bill)and deposit £10 cash into my newly opened account. What I hadn't chanced upon was being served by Susan.

Ahhh, Susan. Her brunette hair and deep brown eyes will forever stay in my memory; her sweet soft lips forever encrusted in my mind in the file marked 'wanking material'.

'Cashier number 2 please' came the voice from the tannoy, and it was finally my turn to be served after about 10 minutes of waiting patiently. As I stepped up to the perspex window of despair, I noticed a radiant smile beaming back at me and a split second later a pretty face, with toussled, tangled locks swept delicately behind each ear. Her eyes were warm and gentle; instantly carming.

My eyes drifted south, and an ample chest, tightly packed into Susan's blue blouse, heaved back at me with every breathe she took. I thought to myself that I'd be able to peek a bit of bra if I was stood to one side of her, as the fabric between each button was forced apart under the strain of her bust. Dirty thoughts raced through my mind.

"How can I help?" said Susan gently.

'Shit, I've been caught staring' I thought to myself.

"I'd like to open a new account please" came my mumbled response, my face getting hotter and more crimson by the second. I was in lust; I wanted Susan there and then, it was a longing that I'd never experienced in my life up to that point, and haven't since.

15 minutes or so passed and my new account was set up and ready for use, but all I could think about during that time was she. I lost the ability to write; I struggled to sign my name. I'm sure I said one or two stupid things, maybe more, but she had laughed at my lame jokes. She twisted her hair in her fingers as she spoke to me. Was this flirting? According to the magazines it was.
I wanted to see Susan again. Soon. But how? It was as she handed me back my ID that I decided to chance it...

"Would you be up for going for a coffee tomorrow lunch time". I couldn't believe that I'd come out with it. She was out of my league, a stunner, she'd have a boyfriend for sure.

"Sure, why not. Here's my number, I have lunch from one to two o'clock tomorrow" replied Susan, smiling.

I smiled back, "See you then", and walked out of Halifax. I almost jumped and clicked my heels together as I made my way back to work; tomorrow couldn't come soon enough.


We sat upstairs in Costa making small talk, edging ever closer to each other until our thighs were touching. I felt an instant shock run up my leg and all the way up my spine. My heart fluttered with desire and I watched her; 'I could watch her talk forever', I thought to myself. She was perfect.
She touched my hand as she laughed. I liked it when she did so. She tilted her head slightly to the left when trying to get life anecdotes and small talk from my shy self. I liked this even more.

I'd barely touched my coffee, and she was about a third of the way through her frapucinno when she whispered in my ear, "Follow me".
She took me by the hand, quite gingerly at first, and then clasped it tightly as we stood up and she skipped towards to female toilets, pulling me with her. Looking around to make sure no-one was looking, she pushed me through the door and led me to a cubicle.

As the cubicle door shut behind her I kissed on the back of the neck as she slid the lock to 'occupied'. Susan turned and our lips met. They were so soft, so gentle, and her tongue felt warm and almost rough in comparison as it worked with mine. We stumbled backwards, holding each other for support, the kissing getting more frenzied with every passing moment. I felt her reach for the flies on my work trousers and I repayed the favour, being careful not to rub too hard against her polyester trousers for fear of getting a static shock.

Susan's hands moved from my waist and all the way up my back until she was cupping my neck. Then she slid them outwards across my shoulders, forcing me down onto the toilet as she did so. We both gasped for breath. I remember wiping saliva from the corner of my mouth. As Susan dropped to her knees, my meaty bangstick pulsated and throbbed with all its might, itching to be freed from the cage that was my boxer shorts and into the beautiful wilderness that was Susan's mouth. I lifted my buttocks slightly so that she could pull my trousers and boxers down.

The blow job was heavenly. Susan's tongue teased my shaft as she licked gently from my balls up to the tip, smiling and moaning as she did so. This was a huge turn on, knowing that she was enjoying pleasuring me. She teased me, opening her mouth over my cock, but refusing to close until I was near on begging her to suck me into oblivion. By now my shaft was truly awesome; more hard and manly than ever before, aching with the pain and torment of not being relieved. My balls sat tightly,like two vacuum packed ping pong balls, all the while being gently groped by Susan's ever willing hand. Eventually she took me into her mouth, her eyes looking up at me as she did so. Her eyes looked so innocent, so pure, and I had to remind myself that she was expertly working my cock with both hand and mouth, definitely no amateur, and certainly no angel.

The relief was immense. I saw colours and lights and my hands gripped Susan's shoulders tightly. My salty love stew dribbled from the corner of Susan's mouth and my bellend glistened with post cum.

"Best get back to work" she said and she smiled and left me, sat half naked in the female toilets of Costa.

I continued seeing Susan for about 2 months after this first encounter and it is a part of my life that I will always look back on with great fondness. We even had sex in the bank during early evenings when she had to balance the tills. This soon stopped because I couldn't face cumming whilst looking at a life size cut out of Howard the Halifax Man. She no longer works at the branch, having moved to Devon and having been transferred.
(, Mon 20 Jul 2009, 15:01, 7 replies)
When you're a student and have just got your overdraft extended...

...Don't use the money to buy a Reading Festival ticket. And when you go back to the bank the next day to ask for another overdraft extension and the nice lady asks to see your card, make sure you've wiped all of the white powder off of it first.
(, Mon 20 Jul 2009, 14:06, 3 replies)
I've just remembered something that may make all you "I HATE THE BANKS" crowd smile
(, Mon 20 Jul 2009, 13:37, 1 reply)
The black donkey
When I got married I had to pay for the band, in cash. So before hand I phone up my branch and notify them that I'll be taking a large sum of cash out.
"Ho-ho sir, you don't need to let us know for that amount, ever thing will be fine."
The next day I went to my local branch and took out £1500 (they were a good band…) and told the teller I had phoned the branch up beforehand.
"Ho-ho sir, you don't need to let us know for that amount, ever thing will be fine."
The day after my wedding I went to pay for honeymoon suite. Bank account frozen.
Because I'd drawn a large sum of cash out! Bastards. Still I got £70 out of them when I complained.
(, Mon 20 Jul 2009, 13:33, 3 replies)
Mince pies!
Not really a tale of woe, but how I chose my first bank.
Banks are evil, we all know this, some may be slightly less evil than others but really they know you have to give them your money and in fairness I would probably abuse this position if I had it.

So having come to this conclusion fairly early on in life when it was time to open my first bank account back in the day I thought I would do some research into which of the three local banks was the slightly less evil, so off I toddle around town to pick up some of those leaflets explaining why each bank is the best and how they can cure aids and cancer and stop all paedophiles etc. while the small print shows how they will take the shirt off your back.

Now when I did this it was just before Christmas, and me living in a town very reliant on tourist based income it was very quiet out and I could take my time, so I wander into my first port of call, HSBC which was unsurprisingly deserted, and ask for the lady behind the desk for the relevant bits of paper, and wander back out. So far so normal.

Now the next bank on my stroll was Farkleys, and upon entering I espied a large jar of sweets on the counter (Quality street I think) and when requesting more of the leaflets questioned the woman behind the desk (I swear there are no people of the male persuasion working at any of the banks round here) as to their reason for being there and was told they were a christmas treat for customers, but to help myself so I promptly stuffed a few in my pocket and made my way to my final port of call, Shatwest.

Entering this final bank there were more tasty goodies on the counter, but something much better than some poor sweets in a jar, for here in all their delicious goodness was several plates of both mince pies and sausage rolls which I recognized from a particularly fine bakery round the corner (Which I should do, my parents own the damn place)and unable to contain my glee grabbed a few with my next load of advertising from the lovely lady behind the counter.

So it was in a thoughtful mood that I made my way to the coffee shop, munching on a fine sausage roll, where I planned to spend time reading the paperwork from all the banks and make an informed decision about which would be the best for me. However, sitting down with my coffee and looking through this fairly hefty sheaf of papers before me I realised the bank I most wanted to be with is the one which gave out the best free food, and promptly went and signed up with Shatwest, where I have happily been ever since.

(P.S. Some may question the fact that the free food was in fact made by my parents bakery, and I in theory I could get as much of the stuff as I wanted for free at any time of the year. My response would be 'Bollocks to the lot of ya').
(, Mon 20 Jul 2009, 13:10, Reply)
I stopped reading
News of the Dyslexic World, after they exposed the scandal of the banking vicar.
(, Mon 20 Jul 2009, 13:07, 1 reply)
Is that your final answer?
A bank counter, some years ago

Counter person : 'Ok, I just need to ask you some security questions. What is your mothers maiden name?'

Me : 'McSpriggety' *may not be genuine

Counter person : 'hmm. Could it be anything else?'

Me : 'No'

Counter person : 'ok, thats fine, heres your money'


Length? 149mm x 80mm according to the interwebs
(, Mon 20 Jul 2009, 12:48, Reply)
The one that is spelt "H A L I F A X"
I have a £1500 overdraft and not having much income, the monthly income is very close to outgoings. So close in fact, that the overdraft is within a few quid of the limit by the end of the month.

They charged me up to £10 per month for this. Fair enough thought I. But then they said "We're ditching that acount and anyone on it will be moved onto a new account. Every month you're in credit, you get £5 for free. We also charge you £1 for every day you're in your overdraft

(there isn't a <extremely microscopic font-size> tag I can use).

I go in and explain to them that I want a different account, and they kindly change me to a different account which although is going to cost me about £16 a month (instead of £10) it's far far better than £30.

However, after scanning "Money Saving Expert", I opened an account with Alliance & Leicester who wil charge me at most £5 a month.

My only concern is that Haliax will want their £16 a month. I suppose I could transfer £20 a week over an eventually pay it off over 75 months.

Actually, I might transfer £5 a week instead, which would cost them more. Arf.
(, Mon 20 Jul 2009, 12:44, 1 reply)
From the other side of the fence again
Me: Ok so you want to withdraw [GDP of small country] from your account. Do you have [required forms of ID]?
Customer: Cunting Bastard / Don't you know who I am / girlfriend is ill in hospital / been banking with you for years / bloody jobsworth / See your manager / only got my gala bingo card on me / but it's MY money !!!!


Seriously though, seriously. Yes, many counter staff are feckless monkeys but the rules and procedures are there for a reason.

Some of you are moaning about situations where you'd expect to be given access to your accounts where ANY STRANGER OFF THE STREET would be able to do the same.

How can the counter person distinguish between you and a stranger. Did you go to school with them? Maybe they know your mother?

No, they don't.

(, Mon 20 Jul 2009, 12:06, 9 replies)

This question is now closed.

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