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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)
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This question is now closed.

Repost to pass the time until a new question...
... and 10 points awarded to anyone who gets the reference.

I and two accomplices hit on an insurance scam. We insured two ships carrying a load of sugar from Antwerp - one to London, the other to Ipswich. They were insured by the Fugger Bank.

One of these ships was "captured by Zeeland pirates" and we collected the insurance. This was in the form of a credit note, which we traded for Fugger bonds. These bond certificates were then copied - extensively - and cashed at branches of the Fugger bank all over Europe. Over three or five years, we pulled in almost half a million florins.

Result? The collapse of the Bank - thereby causing financial paralysis to both Emperor Charles V and the Holy See, and a political crisis throughout Europe.

(, Thu 23 Jul 2009, 15:38, 7 replies)
For a question? There's an hour and a half of work left to waste people, and the quantity of material that looks vaguely like work is dropping off considerably!
(, Thu 23 Jul 2009, 15:32, Reply)
The joy of German banks
Back in the 90s I used to work for one of those cuddly German banks, you know, one of the ones that funded Auschwitz and the development of Zyklon B.

In 50 years there hadn't really been that much of an attitude shift - ie everyone who wasn't German was treated like shit. They made my boss at the time write out the plan of how to liquidate her own department and shift it to Frankfurt (how thoughtful), and the top dog (who loved to wear Good Morning Vietnam shiny green suits), used to love to get his departmental heads to in-fight as much as possible to keep himself in as safe a position as possible.

Anyway, sadly, the whole culture permeated down the management structure levels - one particular cnut, who I shall call Sohn Jalter (for the sake of anonymity) was a real little Hitler-youth. He was universally loathed.

Anyway, he loved doing his master's bidding and when the time came to start slashing jobs, he went at it with real zeal.

Now, I sat next to a lovely bloke called Olly - great lad from Catford and although we couldn't have probably been from more different backgrounds, we got on just fine. Sadly though, Olly wasn't always the brightest spark, but give him his due, he did work hard.

Trouble with Olly was he liked the odd funny cigarette. Well, when I say odd, probably an ounce bag an evening. So, one Friday afternooon, somebody asks him what he's up to on the weekend.

'Oh, I'm off on the legalise cannabis march'...

Monday morning, John, erm I mean, Sohn is sitting there gurning his fat cnut of a face off. He sidles up to Olly and says 'Hi Olly, as you know this company has a random drugs policy test, and you're up this morning'.

Unsurprisingly, the reading went off the scale and the test tube melted, so Olly had to clear his desk, as Sohn sat there looking pleaed with himself about the money that he'd saved the department that would no doubt mean he got an extra £50 in his bonus package.

I don't hate many people, but...
(, Thu 23 Jul 2009, 15:02, Reply)
Cash Machines for Shortarses
Last weekend I was in my hometown to attend a family wedding and needed some cash. Stopping at a petrol station that had a cash machine evidently installed for the benefit of minors and adults at or below 4 feet tall, I hit what I thought was the 'Other Amount' button. Because I'm normal-sized for a mid-30's bloke, the indicated button actually turned out to be the one to withdraw £100, which the machine gave me in full.

Only thing was, I only had about £75 left to withdraw overdraft included and my bank, like all of them, just loooves to hit the unsuspecting with ridiculously disproportionate charges. Fuck.

Fortunately, a friend of mine in my hometown banks with the same firm as me and was able to make an instant transfer to my account about an hour later to make sure I didn't stay over-limit.

Let them try to hit me with charges for that. Let them just fucking try.
(, Thu 23 Jul 2009, 15:00, 4 replies)
It was a long
and dark December, when the banks became cathedrals.
(, Thu 23 Jul 2009, 14:55, Reply)
Charles Darwin
Went to a bank, and contemplated a bit of a tangle...

In fact, he contemplated:

a Ratio of Increase so high as to lead to a Struggle for Life, and as a consequence to Natural Selection, entailing Divergence of Character and the Extinction of less-improved forms.

It sounds vaguely familiar, except the less-improved forms no longer go extinct.
(, Thu 23 Jul 2009, 14:08, Reply)
Collective nown for bankers - A wunch.

(, Thu 23 Jul 2009, 13:50, Reply)
Heard this in the bank queue the other day
Why was six scared?


Cuz seven ate nine!

Okay, it was told to the queue by a five year old kid, but it made me laugh.
(, Thu 23 Jul 2009, 11:45, Reply)
I got one up on a bank with their (unwitting) help
Probably about 10 years ago my boss at the time sent me off to "that vest" as they were then (are they still that now?.... I digress) to get some change, he wanted £60 in £20 notes changing to fivers.

I get to the counter, hand over the cash, ask for fivers in change, and the young laddie the others side of the glass obliges... he's counting them as he goes.... "35, 40, 45, 50, 55, 60, 65, 70, 75, and £80. Anything else I can do for you?"

I believe in Karma, this isn't my money, my boss paid me sod all (this was before the minimum wage which came in about 3 months after I left and worked for someone who wasn't a tit, had I still been there I would have been about £40 a week better off) and £20 felt like a lot. Also if I had been responsible for a £20 error in his shop and he found out he would be the worlds biggest arse for at least a week to me, so it was almost instinctive not to take it.

"Errmm.. I think I only gave you £60"

The young chap looks at his colleague, rolls his eyes, doesn't agree or disagree or recount what I gave him but starts to count the fivers again, this time a little tersely.

"*sigh* 5, 10, 15....... 55, 60, 65, 70, 75, and 5 is 80. Will that be all sir?"

"Seriously I'm sure it was only £60 I gave you"

Again, he doesn't count the money I gave him, this time he wasn't a happy chappy.

" *deeper sigh* 5. 10. 15. 20....... 55. 60. 65. 70. 75. And. Another. 5. Makes. 80. anything else I can do for you. Sir?"

I realised that I wasn't getting through so off I go. I put on a bit of a fumble in pockets "oooh have I given him all the money" thing in front of the boss just to make sure he hadn't given me £80 and I hadn't counted it right, and didn't mention it to him. If I had he would have genuinely wanted my winnings seeing as it was his cash which caused the confusion, and he was a money grubbing, vindictive, tight arsed monkey.

I wonder if my £20 started the avalanche that has become the banking implosion? Mighty oaks and tiny acorns and all that.
(, Thu 23 Jul 2009, 11:17, 2 replies)
I travel with work
and have to submit my bank statements with my expense claims (to prove the exchange rate I got when I'm claiming back the money I've spent overseas).

My friends know this, and so have taken to leaving little notes on my account for the finance team who review my claims to find, by depositing (very small) amounts into my account with inappropriate and/or offensive payment references.

Highlights so far include 20p paid in by one friend, ostensibly for a "Colossal Dildo", 10p for "Bum Fun", and a £1 total deposit (split over 10 instalments of 10p each), which explained in detail across the 10 payment references that the £1 was a loyalty discount from a local establishment that employed ladies "of ill repute" specialising in S&M - I believe he referred to it as a "frequent flayer discount".
(, Thu 23 Jul 2009, 11:13, 4 replies)
turn the tables on them
I fucking hate banks for most of the various reasons mentioned by the hundreds of people posting before me.

I take great pleasure in getting back at them every chance I get.

My mortgage provider fucked up the funds transfer on the purchase of my last house and my lawyer fucked up as well. All in all it was an interesting few days with costs being incurred left right and centre (penalties on late completion, hotel rooms, additional removal csts, you name it). As my lawyer had fucked up I had a long and interesting talk with them which led to all costs being covered by them. Then I remembered the bank. A quick call to them saw the ball rolling on a claim for all of the aforementioned expenses. They never asked if anyone else was
covering them, and I never told them. I was in fact very proud of the fact that I just called them and told them I was out of pocket and then just waited on them suggesting compensation as well as covering the costs. Paid for my stamp duty.

On another occasion my wife and I both opened accounts with another bank in trust for our son. We got a whacking great 7% rate if we agreed to conduct all business on the accounts by phone and internet. I felt that not having to deal with the branck monkeys was just an added bonus. Anyhoo, a few months down the line it turns out it is a phone banking only account. No internet. I gave some careful thought to how I could make my bank pay for lieing to me. Then I had it. A call to the manager explaining that my wife and I had both bought smart phones specifically for the purpose of keeping track of the finances in these accounts only attracted a rather bored sigh and a few murmurred apologies. I then used the phrase “I feel I was mis-sold this financial product”. The next few minutes saw me negotiate a one off “good will payment” of £100. As far as I know mis selling in its true financial sense does not even apply to accounts but never mind.

I spent a wonderful time batting my account back and forth between RBS and HBOS which saw me clock up a total of £350 over the course of 8 months in joining and switching incentives. My favourite was the lowest one of £50 as the terms of the deal saw me give HBOS my RBS account details and walk out with £50 cash in my grubby wee hands. That rocked. I would love to say I spent it on booze and good times but it went on nappies.

My first ever bank complaint was back in the december just before the switch to the euro when the local co-op ATM ate my card on December 23rd (local kids shoving 5p pieces in the card slot). Now, the ATM was part of a co-op shop and the manager of the shop had informed co-op bank (a different organisation entirely) that he thing was eating cards a good 5 hours before I showed up. When I found this out I went straight on the phone and explained that I felt it should have been disabled to prevent further losses. “Oh we are verrrrry sorry Mr OTT but why do you demand compensation in relation to a event which saw you lose a piece of plastic given to you for free by your bank”

I had a flash of inspiration. “Well, for starters I have over £5000 of jewellery put aside at Laings in Glasgow for family Christmas presents. If I do not have means of payment then Santa wont be coming this year (False, I was 19 and poor as they come). “ahh well.....” “Sorry I wasn't finished, I am also headed to Europe for new year and was counting on electronic means of payment to see me through the currency switch (true) and do not have any other cards suitable for use (false).

A long and protracted discussion with a few follow up calls and the odd letter saw me receive a £200 cheque to ward of the January blues.

I had £80 of charges wiped from when I was in Holland (see above) and was drawing 25 guilders at a time (about £8) from the cash machine every time I needed cash, blissfully unaware of the charge for foreign currency withdrawals.

My home insurance provider tried to fuck me over after I got flooded no less than 8 times by the fuck stick that lived upstairs. Separate claims for this and that with £100 excess PER CLAIM the bastards. Well, not exactly my doing but one of the things to get the full h2o treatment by my retarded neighbour

(“its ok mate, my pal's a plummer and will be over after the rangers game.” “Five minutes then, cool.” “No mate he is at the game in Aberdeen, he says he can get here in about 3 hours”)

Anyhoo, I digress. One of the many things to die a water induced death was my pride and joy american style fridge freezer. It was one of the bargain basement ones that comet and currys were selling for £499 ages ago. This company (I believe a guy called Howard works for them) said that the would repair it instead of replace it. The engineer came out and promptly advised that water had gotten into the main circuit board and technically speaking, it was fucked. So the stupid bastards had to replace it anyway. Only thing was the engineer put down the wrong model number (I think he got the first letter and one number wrong). The result was that they paid out on a top of the range fridge freezer which came with a FUCKING TELEVISION IN THE DOOR. Luckily they paid out on it instead of replacing it. The old fridge freezer took up about 20% of the floor space in our tiny galley kitchen.

In another story I reclaimed £800 in charges on my Dad's account (thanks dchurch). Nothing special here you may think but I did it without writing a single letter. A guy I was working with used to be a trainer at LLLLLLLLOYDS and gave me a direct dial number for the dept dealing with this. I then managed to bully my way through the ignorant dross to a manager who explained that I had no ref no so had to submit my initial letter requesting the case be looked at. Oh, and include the cheque for the subject access request. I then explained that I was not looking to make a subject access request for 6 years worth of statements. Instead I wanted someone to spend 5 seconds running a query for charges only. I did not want to kill a forest and I did not want to know how much my dad spent on shopping in 2003. Again, polite but very firm gets you very far and I got the details through. Martin Lewis's lovely interest calculator saw me come up with the above figure which was deposited into dads account within 10 working days. He gave me half.

I fucking hate banks. And not just a tabloid induced credit crunch knee jerk hatred either. (I fucking hate the term credit crunch, I even saw a news segment where they did a vox pop thing and had no less than 2 people talking about the credit card crunch, just fucking shoot them) A common sentiment on here so it seems.

My advice is always be on the lookout for an angle which will allow you to make a small but nonetheless worthwhile assault on your bank.

I remember a while ago in the newsletter one of the “it would be cool if someone could do this for us” things was a script which allowed for internet banking payments to be made 1p at a time. That would be heroic.
(, Thu 23 Jul 2009, 8:58, 1 reply)
Everyone seems to hate them but I quite like them. Every woman in my local branch is incredibly attractive. Ive been banking there for 10 years (since I was 13) so ive 'grown up' with a couple of milfs in there and the new batch of counter girls are beautiful as well. It almost makes paying bills a pleasure
(, Thu 23 Jul 2009, 7:44, 1 reply)
I was a bit strapped for cash.
So I spammed my shitty bank all over the internet in the hope that a few people would be interested.

When I posted my spam on here, I got a bit of abuse at first, but then I got my team of double-hard bastard lawyers to frighten any dissenters into silence by virtue of vague legal threats. Now I can spam this site to my heart's content and no-one is allowed to object. Get in!

Oh did I say "bank"? I meant "band". Sorry about that.
(, Thu 23 Jul 2009, 3:57, 2 replies)
May not be true
Guy sees a queue at his banks ATM, decides to go across the road to 'another bank's' atm

Another bank's atm gives him double.
"Woohoo!" he thinks.
Does another transaction and withdraws everything he has in the account. Double again.
"Woohoo x2," he thinks. Then he thinks, "Aha!"

Walks across the road deposits the money his own bank.
Walks back across the road to dodgy atm, and does it all again... for the whole afternoon, until his bank closed for the day.

Walked away with 4,500. Would have been more, but you know those bloody queues in banks, never seem to have enough staff on when you need it.
(, Thu 23 Jul 2009, 2:48, 5 replies)
Oh to be so naive again...
When I was really young (around 5-6) I received some birthday money from my grandparents, the princely sum of £5.

Around that time I was watching quite a few cartoons where the bank robber would steam out of the bank with sackfulls of cash with dollar signs on them. You know: the type where the next scene would be them pouring the gold through their hands and laughing manically.

Realising that there were 100 little penny coins in every one of the pounds in my fiver, but not having any concept of the volume of said coins, I decided to take my £5 into the bank to be changed into pennies, thinking I'd be walking out laden with cash, legs bowing with the weight of it all.

Imagine my crushing disappointment, then, when I was handed a sorry little bag with 500 horribly small pennies in it, that required all of 1 hand to carry. I think my mum actually had to help me stop crying.

Ah, the destruction of childhood...
(, Thu 23 Jul 2009, 1:21, Reply)
Apologies in advance
10 months ago I secured myself a job at everybody's favourite red Spanish bank, this was just before the recent banking 'crisis' so there was none of this daily mail stigma attached to the industry and I certainly didn't realise we were sat nonchiently at the top of a rollarcoaster heading for a load of shit.

I didn't enjoy the job, spending the day in my little perspex prison wading through red tape, customer fuck-wittery and clueless colleagues.

Fast forward 9 months and my probationary review. Apparently due to a lack of dynamic sales focus on my behalf they are streamlining my career blah blah blah. After a quick glance at my bullshit to english dictionary basically they were getting shot of me. I had 4 weeks and then gone.

Now whilst a little bit of me was cheering that I was free I was a little peeved because nobody ever hit their targets. Such was the greed of the people above they made them nigh on impossible so I conducted a plan.

For that whole 4 weeks I wrote down the card number of everyone I served, I even went on the system and lifted the numbers other people had served. By the end of it I had nearly 1000 card numbers on a word document, and on the very last day at about 3 o'clock, I systematically ordered every card on that list a nice new pin number.

I then spent the next day at the pub opposite watching a queue form outside the door of angry looking fuckwits storm in and then storm out.

Length: Stretching almost to BHS
(, Thu 23 Jul 2009, 1:19, 14 replies)
Dismantle the banking system
go back to bartering:

'How much for the jumbo jet? I'll give you 2 goats and a bottle of poteen. Actually, no, I'll need that for fuel...'
(, Wed 22 Jul 2009, 23:07, 1 reply)
When I bought 3 things on Amazon for less than £30.00 they declined the transaction as it was an 'overseas' transaction and thus clearly fraud- I mean, who has heard of Amazon over here? Must be some dodgy Nigerian bank or a cocaine selling arms dealer

When some chuffmonkey ripped my Amex off for the best part of a grand, it went through without a hitch.


Double arseholes for reducing my limit by 60% 'with immediate effect' because some of their comrades gave away money secured only on their shoelaces. What if I'd been abroad when the letter arrived?

They should all be put on the sex offenders register, made to wear orange hi-viz jackets emblazoned with "I am a banker", and tied to trees for us to do as we wish with bricks, sharpened kitchen tools and the like.

Ringlicking spacktards, the lot of them.

Crapital One too- interest rate up from 9.9% to 16.9%? At least Dick Turpin wore a mask.
(, Wed 22 Jul 2009, 21:02, Reply)
Most of this seems to be about banks screwing you over....so here is the reverse

*time and space fade back to the old question about freebies*

It's not as much the freeness but the lucky circumstances surrounding this that make me still want to cry about 2 weeks later!

T'was a Tuesday. A day of rest for myself from the labours of uni (but when only in 2x2 hours a week most days are) but a group presentation was due for the next day. Being the good guy I am I decide to take the commute into Glasgow anyway and meet up with the rest.

The previous Friday news reached me of Lee Evans playing at the Glasgow SECC. So I decide it would be best to go get tickets as well before meeting the group.

As I walk out the SECC, £120 cash spent I get a text about a cash machine in Glasgow Central station paying out double.

Runs does I to the train, gets it in and am greeted by a big queue. Nonetheless I stand in it (along with 3 other mates who all got the same text) and finally reach the front.

I had taken out £120 on the tickets already so was limited to £180 so plumped for that and got this.

£360 lovely pounds.

I put it back into my account after dealing with the presentation and now - about 3 weeks later - nothing has happened and I'm actually beginning to believe I may get to keep it!

So I got a free £180 as I was in Glasgow a day I normally wouldn't, and being about a 10 minutes train ride from the station at the right time. Luck? Or God loving me?

....and I got Lee Evans tickets :-D


Update - That was November 2007...they have never asked for it back and the same goes for all mates!
(, Wed 22 Jul 2009, 20:40, 4 replies)
A good way to stop your bank card on a Friday afternoon...
... is to go to Tesco, buy some groceries for a weekend trip. Then go to their petrol station, hit "Pay at pump", authorise your card, put in the £59 of petrol that it allows you to do, then do the same thing again to put in the other £30 of petrol that it takes to brim the tanks (my elderly Citroën CX looks like Grangemouth refinery under the back). Marvel as your card gets swallowed when you go to take £20 out of the cash machine for a couple of pints later.
(, Wed 22 Jul 2009, 19:38, 5 replies)
HSBC Jersey
Woked overseas for 3 decades.
Lucky enough to meet my mates daughter (out on a visit to see her folks).
We clicked, she moved overseas so we could be together.
Married, in Kilwinning, a few more years overseas.
Realised we had enough to retire on.
I tried to open a wank account, same problem, "sorry sir, you are not on the electoral role".
Opened a joint account with the wifes bank (Clydesdale).
Phoned up HSBC Jersey, I want to close all accounts and transfer all funds to XXXX, hold the line line sir while I transfer you.
The new operative (apparently), only undestands the French language.
My repeated requests, to transfer my funds to another bank proved futile.
So I wrote a cheque (for the balance) and sent it to the Clydesdale joint account.
Two days later, received a snotty letter from the Clydesdale, your cheque has bounced, you owe us £15 administration charges.
Next morning, off to Glasgow for a visit to the first floor suite at the HSBC.
Having presented my credentials, I was ofered tea/coffee/sandwich biscuits, and a "how can we help you sir".
I explained the previous events and asked for my money.
"Would you like a cheque sir?"
No thanks, that doesn't seem to work. Give me my money.
"But we don't keep that much on the premises"
No problem, I will be over the road in the Horshoe bar, give me a shout when it's availble.
And a few hours later, it was.
Well, just to be sure, I would like to see it verified before me. So they set about it.
Happy with the tally, I weighed this in with the local Cldedsdale bank (the manager and a flunky checked the bundles).
The Manageress cancelled the banks red letter.

Don't bank with HSBC Jersey.

Bankers are a cuntch of qw
(, Wed 22 Jul 2009, 17:40, Reply)
What's the main difference between a city banker and an elderly disabled lady?
You get alot more enjoyment per thrust hacking to death a city banker.
(, Wed 22 Jul 2009, 17:18, 1 reply)
How times have changed.
So he walks into the bank, states his name and that he's lost his little book and they hand over 50 quid in return for a little scribble on a piece of paper. Great he thinks and goes down the pub to drink in an under age but hey, this is a small town and no one gives a monkey's, kind of way.

So I walk into the bank, clutching my little book in my sweaty little paw and ask to withdraw my £50 birthday money as I'd seen some toy or other that I wanted and my Mum said it was ok. "There's been a mistake me laddo..." patronises the lady behind the glass "...seems you don't have 50 pounds to withdraw." And tears well up in my eyes as my lower lip plunges floorways with a familiar wobble.

I find my Mum in the shoe shop next door and tell her, between sniffs and sobs, that I don't have 50 pounds to withdraw, and she marches me straight back to the bank and immediately demonstrates a better knowledge of my meagre finances that I've managed to muster in the years since passed.

Seems the chap at the top of this tale didn't lie, just that the teller didn't notice the two people of my name on the books. I was given my money and his account changed accordingly and I dried my eyes and bought whatever mass produced plastic tat had been so important to me at the time, and everyone was happy.

It's not much of a tale, but try doing that now:

"Hi, my name's Moey, I bank with you and I'd like to withdraw 50 of your finest pounds with which to get drunk."

"No, I don't have any evidence of my ID, nor do I have anything to prove I bank with you, but I do have an account, honest."

"Oh go on, just 50 quids, I'm parched and I can't be arsed to walk all the way home again...!"

"No, I don't have any evidence..." etc...
(, Wed 22 Jul 2009, 16:41, Reply)

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