Insurance
This is not a funny post, I'm just chucking it in in case it saves some B3tan's sanity one day....

If you should ever be in the very distressing situation where someone you love becomes very poorly and loses their employment, you can expect for their bank to start getting cross and shouting for money. You will try, because you don't want it to stress your loved one, to sort this out like a grown up. This is very difficult. Hours on the phone become days and weeks. Your phone will ring night and day and you may very well be threatened with the debt collectors.

("But what I'm trying to tell you is, HE HAS NO INCOME AT ALL, he is very poorly. I can afford to give you £xx per month though, just until he's better."

"Tough shit. What we will do is take your paltry offering and continue to harrass and threaten you. Have a lovely day.")

What you cannot and will never be able to understand about this process is that the bank will not tell you THAT HE HAD INSURANCE FOR THIS VERY SITUATION ALL ALONG.

I spent a nightmare 3 months or so on the phone every day, fitting the calls around working, I spoke to HUNDREDS of employees of a very large bank who may rhyme with FARTCLAYS. Only one, an Indian gentleman probably unimaginably far away, had the common human decency to ask me why we had not claimed the insurance for THIS VERY SITUATION for which he'd been paying every month forever. I could have flown over there to kiss him.

Claiming the insurance is a nightmare too, but we're finally there. And all the charges have been waived, reducing the bill from the terrifying, bloated monster it had become. And my loved one is on the mend : )

But. If the worst should happen. If you ever have to try to sort something like this out. ASK THEM OUTRIGHT IF THERE IS INSURANCE ON THE ACCOUNT. Because they will keep taking payment for it.

But it's a secret.

Again, sorry for lack of funny. But if this should save one person the hell I went through etc.
(magenta may, Fri 17 Jul 2009, 12:59, 2 replies)

There's far too much hate in this question
Have a topical kitten:


( MatJ LOOK, Fri 17 Jul 2009, 12:55, 3 replies)

The joys of internet banking.
I'm a banker with HSBC, the world's local bank, yes, that one that requires all paying in booklets, new cheque books, etc. to be sent to you via your home branch... the world's local bank!

So, not only am I banking with such a disastrous group of fuckwits as HSBC, but I bank at a provincial branch.

When I set up my account I was told "and now internet banking", the laptop was handed to me "type in a series of seven numbers", I do so, "Right, now that's your IB security number". Wait, what?! No one told me that's what I was making! But hah, I pre-empted their move and memorised it as I wrote it anyway.

So off I go, all ready for internet bankingness. Couple days later I try to check my account online just to see how it all works. An error message comes up, I try again, an error message comes up, I try again, it goes on for a while.

So, off I go back to my local branch to ask what this is all about and the smug bitch responsible talks to me in her office.
The conversation basically boils down to her saying "Well if you can't remember the security code then you're never going to be able to."

1 week later I get a letter saying my online account has been activated. Stupid fucking smug cunt bitch.
This is the same branch that sent me 2 paying in books instead of a paying in book and a cheque book. I asked for a cheque book, they sent me another paying in book.
(Frozen_Banana Shaved against the grain; thoroughly unrewarding., Fri 17 Jul 2009, 12:54, Reply)

The great cock and hole swindle
It's taken me about 9 months of reading, to get this straight - but I think this is worth sharing.

OK...So 'all money is loaned into existence'.

This means before you asked to borrow some, it didn't exist.

Right.

When you want 100K for a house, they tappetty tap, and the money pings into existence, pegged against your house 'value' - that's the 'balance scales' Your house and how much you want to stay in it on one side, the money on the other.

Here's the catch. They want, at the end of the year, more money back than they created. And if you don't repay capital, they get more demanding every year, that's compound interest.

Where do you get that extra money from? Well.. you get it from someone else who's just taken out a loan, further down the pyramid. So far, so good.. but *they're* now down the amount they paid you, plus they've got to pay their own interest. Rinse and repeat.

The more people take out loans, the larger the pyramid becomes, and the more ragged the 'bottom' edge - once banks run out of people who are reliable, heads down repayers, they *have* to start lending to flakey feckers, or everyone else runs out of money.

It's a massive ponzi scheme, and it's always game over when risks of lending (the interest rate charged is the risk, the odds of you repaying) exceed the ability to repay. The lower down the pecking order you go, the quicker this happens.

We have been played, the only way these schemes end is with the little fella holding an empty bag.

There are three options.
Repay
Default
Change the rules

The first one is not possible, the second two end in war.

Buckle up.

Refs:
www.chrismartenson.com/crashcourse
theautomaticearth.blogspot.com/
market-ticker.org/
(Countryslicker, Fri 17 Jul 2009, 12:51, 28 replies)

Summarising the posts so far...
I opened a bank account once in the full and reasonable expectation that the banking system existed entirely for my benefit. Because of this, I didn't bother reading the paperwork I'd signed; nor did I take much notice about my credit cards, overdraft limit, or anything else like that. After all, when the banking system is designed around your personal needs, desires and proclivities, it's up to the banks to keep up with you.

Or me, in this case.

So I am, of course, full of righteous indignation about the manner in which these huge corporations have utterly failed to give their undivided attention to me, and - worse - the way in which they have utterly failed to read my mind and sort out all my banking requirements on my behalf without my even having to ask them.

I'm also disgusted by the way that these businesses seem to think that they can behave as though it's important to make a profit. What temerity! What kind of world is it when a bank thinks that it exists to sell goods and services and make money from those sales, just like any other business? After all, I think we've already established that the system is for MY benefit, and mine alone. I think it's disgusting that they should be able to charge me fees just because I really can't be bothered to look after my own finances. It's not as if I get anything in return (except interest on my savings and access to loans when I need them - but they don't count).

I'm steaming with rage about the way in which, that time when the ATM went mad and doled out free £20 notes, I had to repay what I'd been given by accident.

Personally, I blame the Illuminati, the Bildeberg Group (I don't know what this is, but I've heard of it, and it sounds sinister) and the Jews.
(Star Wars Starwarsy McStarwars Face, Fri 17 Jul 2009, 12:43, 19 replies)

A bank error in your favour...
My father in law has a gift. Anything money-related he touches (gambling, premium bonds, stocks) seems to work in his favour in the long run.

However, he really made a profit when one day he checked his balance and he was £4500 up. He checked through his statements and sure enough about £4500 (I forget the exact figure) had been put in there by his bank.

He waited for the inevtible phone call of "Sorry we shouldn't have put that money in there, blah blah", but none arrived. Even to this day nothing has been mentioned, so he did what any slightly dishonest person would do and kept it, divvying it up amongst the family (a big thanks, as I managed to pay my car tax and MOT).

And I thought this sort of thing only happened in Monopoloy. (He wins that too all the time, jammy bastard).
( VandenPlas can't think of anything clever - no change there!, Fri 17 Jul 2009, 12:40, 5 replies)

Barclays
Like a lot of people I have a current account with a debit card and a higher interest savings account. I keep as little as possible in the debit account, but due to my own laziness I ended up with a few grand in there, making next to nothing.

I spent it in the run up to my wedding and ended up with about £6 in my account. Needing to buy bits and bobs before payday I transferred a few hundred from savings into my debit account and got on with it.

A week later I got a letter from Barclays stating my account was unusually low and including a form for a pre approved £24,000 loan. 'Call us before 3pm and the money will be in your account the same day'.

THIS is why the country is fucked. They disregarded my savings account, ISA, shares, and simply saw 'shiiit! she only has six quid!!! we can foist a nasty 18.9% loan off on her (cackle cackle hand rubbing)'

I know it's my choice whether to take a loan or not, that's not the point. But if they did indeed disregard my other savings, then they'll be sending pre approved loan offers to people who don't have them, and find it all too easy and tempting to tie themselves up in years of debt.

I know a girl who, when depressed (not that it's an excuse but she certainly wasn't thinking rationally) managed to get £45k of credit on a £20k wage. Fucking banks. They were offering her more cards and more credit every time she went in or called, even if she was calling to try and pay some off! Fucking fucking banks.
(Northern Lovely, Fri 17 Jul 2009, 12:39, 4 replies)

Just a thought
But almost every complaint (other than those of mistakes or incompetence) about banks I've heard from people are along the lines of "they charged me for going overdrawn, I only went over by a fiver etc" and therefore almost always the fault of the complainer.

I'm on a modest wage, I've never had a fine, a charge, whatever, in 18 years of adult banking.

I've been overdrawn, but on every occasion I phoned up the bank and told them in advance. I check my statements every week or so, I know my balance of all my accounts to within a few pence all the time.

Its really fucking easy. The banks take the piss because the customers do. They havent - to the best of my knowledge - had a penny out of me except for interest. Which funnily enough, they usually tell me about, up front, and at rate to which I agreed.

I've never entered a contract that I didnt read and agree to either.

Please, someone tell me, what is so hard about looking after ones finances?

Now, wheres my croissant and some smug looking coffee.
( I have run out of coke is a little sweaty, Fri 17 Jul 2009, 12:37, 10 replies)

How apt!
I was arse-raped and blackmailed by my bank yesterday!!!!! but i can't be arsed to give the detail, they're all bastards, they just want your money, if they could make an extra quid by setting fire to a child's cancer unit they would..... cunts
( sir loafalot ended an eon of lurking on, Fri 17 Jul 2009, 12:17, 4 replies)

The Bankers are Even Worse...
I had to increase my overdraft by a couple hundred quid this year, which required an appointment at the major branch of my bank rather than my local one. I was absolutely humiliated by the time I got there, as I hate being in the red at all, and admitting it to a smarmy banker would be awful.

Surprisingly, the banker was actually really nice. (He'd graduated from my uni two years before, and wanted the gossip/dirt on some of the lecturers... anyway.) He waved aside my overdraft and told me this story about a fellow student/banker who now works for B:

This guy sets up a student account before he gets to university, who offer him a £1000 Overdraft per year- meaning he can get a minimum £3000 by the end of his degree. He opens the account, then goes to a different bank and opens ANOTHER account with a similar OD. Then another bank, and another account.

When he gets his student loan, he transfers it between the three banks so they all think the loan is being paid directly to them- meaning his credit is good enough to use the overdraft... and increase it.

By the end of his degree, he had spent £14,000 of overdraft. Apparently he had to busk to get enough money for a train ticket home after that. God only knows how he paid it back...
(Sivvus trolley collision in the fruit aisle led to a jam, Fri 17 Jul 2009, 12:15, 1 reply)

Opening hours...
I used to be a financial journalist. I was writing a piece that criticised banks for their stupid hours when a spokesman for Lloyds TSB told me that their hours were just like any other retail business on the British high street.
Presumably then this is why the economy is fucked - consumer spending as at rock bottom because no fucker can get to the shops while they're open.
(sparagus14, Fri 17 Jul 2009, 12:09, 2 replies)

Bank raid.
I used to work in the booking office at a major station and after a bank holiday our change situation had become somewhat critical with no delivery due for a couple of days. The supervisor rang one the local banks to see if they could help us out and put two of us in a taxi with a list of what had been agreed. The taxi driver spent the whole journey expressing his views on another driver's unhealthy relationship with children over the 2 way radio. On arrival we told him to wait, went to the enquiry desk and handed the note over. The clerk opened the security door for us to go round behind the counter and pointed to the walk in safe telling us to help ourselves! The most cash I have ever seen. As I could never get my till to balance and didn't trust the person I had been sent with I didn't have much hope of what we were putting in our carrier bags matching what had been agreed. I expected one of the clerks to check us when we came out but we were just told to press the button to open the door and back to work.
(jvz, Fri 17 Jul 2009, 12:07, Reply)

Serious interlude…
This may be seen as a bit cheeky/spammy/pluggy, so sorry in advance if it does.

If any of you really are sick of the way banks act, then there is actually a way to at least try to do something about it.

I don’t want to go into too much detail about where I work in the public part of the forum, but seriously, Gaz me if you want to get involved in trying to change the banking system. It’s something that I spend a lot of time working on. From bonus culture to commission based selling, it needs changing.

And, I promise, change can happen. Some already has. Remember ATM fees? See how few still exist (excluding those bloody rip off ones you get in pubs)? That was us…

I am not going to be around much until Tuesday as I am going to be in the middle of the Lake District for the next few days, so I doubt I’ll have internet access…

But I promise I will get back to you with more details once I am back.
In the meantime (and again, sorry to sound post whore-y), please click ‘I like this’ so as many people as possible see it and can get in touch if they want.

And no, I am not Martin Lewis.








(And, Mods, if by any chance this ends up in the ‘Best of’ on Thursday, please feel free to delete and give space to the inevitable Spanky Hanky ‘I accidentally jizzed on the bank tellers tits’ post…)
( scarpe We Stole Bikes, Fri 17 Jul 2009, 12:02, 2 replies)

Miami (again)
Checking out of a hotel

‘That will be $360 sir’

And I hand over my Barclaycard. My brand new (having broken the previous one trying to get back into a shitty bed & brealfast room I had locked myself out of in Manchester the previous weekend, but that’s another story – and yes, afterwards I realised I should have just gone and asked for a spare key) couriered to me three days earlier in London, only twice used, Barclaycard.

‘Um…sorry sir, your card has been declined’

So I spend the next two hours on the phone. First to my Mum, who has to give her card details over the phone so she can pay for the hotel I am trying to check out of, and then to Barclays, trying to figure out just what the fuck is going on.

And, I swear, this is what I was told (when I finally got through to someone that was actually willing to fucking speak to me).
‘You had a transaction at WHSmiths at Heathrow airport at 7am on Friday. Then you withdrew £1,000 in cash in Rio De Janeiro at 11 am on Friday and then used it again in Miami at 9pm. You are up to your maximum balance’

‘Excuse me, can you explain that again?’

And they did.

And I asked ‘Just as a passing thought, do you think it is likely that I was able to get from WHSmith in Heathrow to Rio De Janeiro in the space of four hours? And then managed to get to Miami in time for a late dinner?’

‘Well, sir, our records show…’

‘No, I am asking if you think it is possible that I got from WHSmith in Heathrow to Rio De Janeiro in the space of four hours and then got to Miami for dinner’

‘Our records indicate…’

‘Once more, DO YOU THINK IT IS POSSIBLE THAT I…etc…?’

And on and on this went.

Until she said ‘Well, sir, I don’t know how far apart they all are so it might be possible’

Give me strength…




I did, eventually, get my money back. But my sanity was a lost cause.
( scarpe We Stole Bikes, Fri 17 Jul 2009, 12:01, 4 replies)

This bunch topped the lot
My first bank, many years ago, really took the biscuit.

Firstly, they offered a secure location for my cash along with a reasonably straightforward method of accessing it and updates on my current financial progress, okay with minimal interest, but still preferable to a tin in the garden, for nothing.

Then, in order to apparently "cover staffing costs" and "return a profit for shareholders" and "not go bankrupt", they expected to be able to actually charge me some money if I break the rules, because otherwise they have no way of continuing to exist. W&nkers. Still with 'em, mind, but mainly just because I love (black) horses.

(NB actually my bank hate me, as I am comfortably - but not excessively - in the black, and as far as I can make out, they have never made a penny out of my custom in twelve years. I think they'd love to palm me off on another bank)
( prince-igor si tacuisses, philosophus mansisses, Fri 17 Jul 2009, 11:51, 2 replies)

Passwords
Last year in preparation for a trip to the USA I opened a new current account that didn't charge for withdrawals in the foreign. (3% interest rate too at the time!). While the nice young lady went through the application on her computer with me she asked for several passwords including memorable dates. I was struggling as i don't have a family to give me important dates and nothing could be repeated in different sections and finished up having to flick through my diary to find an event I was likely to remember which finished up being the date a friend's child died. I know one friend who uses his wife's name as a password and it got me thinking, how many people have done that and have now split up but are still stuck with previous partner's name everytime they do their online or telephone banking.
(jvz, Fri 17 Jul 2009, 11:50, 6 replies)

Whilst at uni my mother and I used to play a silly game
where we would write each other cheques with stupid signatures.

We started with the old donald duck or mickey mouse for we saw two people on telly do it and that is where we got our inspiration from.

We tried allsorts of stupid names, each others names, squiggles, insults, the word fake, counterfeit, not real, a cross. any comic book superhero we could think of.

Every single one cashed.

It wasn't until my mum put a smiley face that one was refused.
( Peej, Fri 17 Jul 2009, 11:29, Reply)

Speaking of jobsworths
I was only a head-office tech support monkey for a bank. I know why I was a jobsworth, but I still don't know why most branches insist on opening between 9:30 and 4:30.

Most people in the UK work 9-5.

If we want to go to the bank, we have to skive off, or go during lunch, when the queue's at least an hour and a half long. It's worse on pension day, when the coffin-dodgers have been in since opening time and some of them are still waiting waiting waiting at half one and I need to pay in a fucking cheque because the useless bastards don't let me do that remotely but I need the money by the end of the week and will you move you grey-haired cunt are you still breathing oh you are you heard me calling you a cunt well it's because you are, love.

And breathe...
(DigitalRaven will have to make do with gin, Fri 17 Jul 2009, 11:20, 1 reply)

Cards
I lost my cards on a bus once. Everything apart from my debit card was a dream, quick replacement and no fuss whatsoever.

A month after being told I'd have my card "within a week, love" I started shouting at people. They finally got me a phone number. Bear in mind that this is a month in which I've had to skive off work to withdraw any money.

"Where's my card?"
"We've got it here, sir."
"Where the fuck is 'here'? It's supposed to be in my hand!"
"It got returned by the postman, so it's at your home branch."
"It... but... where is this place?"
"Hull."
"I live in Edinburgh. I changed my fucking address to Edinburgh. You've sent my statements to Edinburgh for the past five years."
"Are you sure you can't just drop in to pick it up?"
"It's THREE HUNDRED SHITCOCKING MILES AWAY!"
"Well that's not really my fault. I suppose I could send it up to a branch up there, but I'm really not meant to..."
"Put the card in the fucking post or I'll burn your house down."

All bankers are useless jobsworth cunts. I know because I used to be one.
(DigitalRaven will have to make do with gin, Fri 17 Jul 2009, 11:14, 4 replies)

The card hadn't come out of the machine.
I'd done everything correctly - not hesitated too long when pressing the buttons, got the PIN correct, not tried to snatch the card from the machine and triggered a safety system. But there'd been nothing.
The card did not return to me from the slot.

I racked my brains. I was sure that neither solvency nor liquidity was a problem. Besides - though I never use it, I have quite a generous overdraft facility. I'd've remembered busting through the bottom of that.

Maybe my account had been hacked.

Shit. I'd better talk to the cashier.

The branch was quiet, and I tried to be nonchalant as I approached the counter. I was anything but calm inside. My card hadn't come back to me, and this could only be a bad thing.

I smiled. The casher smiled back.
"Um... the machine outside just ate my card."
"Oh. Did it ask you for your PIN first?"
"Yeah. All that was normal. I put in the pin, asked for a tenner, took the money, but the card stayed put."
"You got the money?"
"Yep."
"That normally comes out after the card. It's unusual to get money but no card."
"That's what I thought. But..."
... and somewhere in the back of my consciousness, I could hear the sound of air hissing out from a balloon of certainty.

Tentatively, I opened my wallet.

The card was there. Of course the machine had returned it. I'd just been so caught in the routine that I hadn't noticed that I'd taken it and put it back to its habitual place.

The cashier read the expression on my face perfectly and smiled again.

"You know," I offered, "I do feel somewhat foolish."
( Enzyme is powered by sunlight, Fri 17 Jul 2009, 11:03, 3 replies)

Cashpoint antics
Something happened a while back that I thought was impossible. It was relatively late in the evening (9.30pm ish?) and I needed some cash. So over I pop to my local Lloyds TSB in Bristol, and happily throw my card into the ATM. The machine swiftly accepts the card into its innards and I go about punching in my pin upon request. All seems to be going smoothly when it asks me how much I'd like to withdraw. "What the heck, £30 please!" I think to myself, and touch the relevant button for that quantity of cash. What happens next however, is not all to plan.

The machine just sat there, doing nothing. I waited. And waited. And waited. I looked at my watch. At least a minute's passed. Finally the screen changes on the machine to say "please take your card", and then promptly SPITS OUT SOMEONE ELSE'S CARD. It then goes back to its default screen. The bastard has not only swallowed my card, but also not given me any cash!

"It's ok," I think to myself, "I'll just do without a fourth, fifth and sixth pint this evening and dinner is overrated anyway. It's probably just messed up and the money never got sent though. I'll sort this in the morning. I guess they're lucky I'm not into thieving cards..." And home I headed.

So the next morning I trundle down to HSBC to cancel my card, which all goes fine and dandy. But there's a problem. The cash machine up the road actually CHARGED ME £30 for it's little 'hiccup' the night before. Naturally I didn't take this too well. The HSBC manager went with me the few doors up to Lloyds to explain what had gone one and to tell them their machine was fucked, to be greeted with "well it's working fine this morning, are you sure you entered your pin correctly?"

YES I FUCKING ENTERED MY PIN CORRECTLY YOU DAFT COW, HOW ELSE DID YOUR FUCKING MACHINE CHARGE ME THIRTY FUCKING QUID?! HOW DO YOU EXPLAIN THAT A FUCKING WORKING ATM GAVE ME SOMEONE ELSE'S CARD?!

At least the Lloyds people were grateful that I returned the other person's card. HSBC refunded me the money and I got a new card that looks way cooler than the old one. But still.
(The Oscillating Gibbon is eating curried squid, Fri 17 Jul 2009, 10:40, 2 replies)

Irish banks suck arse
I was brought up in UK originally but I live in Ireland now. So it pisses me off no end to compare the state of banks in both countries. I know UK b3tards probably have lots to say about their banks but I bet it doesn't compare to Ireland. Derisory interest rates with charges on everything. Free banking - what's that? Even the government has its go at taking the piss by slapping stamp duty on everything, even credit cards and cheques.

Most annoying is opening times. UK banks open on a Saturday even if its a limited service. In Ireland no such thing happens because that would be far too useful. Instead if you want to pay a cheque or do anything of that sort you have to take time off work. Some banks don't even bother opening until 10 on some days or close early on others so you can't even rely on popping in before work.

Another peeve is the way junior savers are treated. I fondly recall all the crap I got for opening an account in Britain. Piggy banks, pencil cases, gift vouchers etc. I still have my Griffin Savers Oxford Dictionary. What do my kids get for opening an account in Ireland? Fuck all. Not a bean. Not even a good rate of return. Instead I may as well just open a regular savers account for them.

About the only good thing in Irish banking is most cashpoints take any card from any bank without imposing a fee. I can see that changing as soon as the slimy bastards think they can get away with it.
(MagicMoose, Fri 17 Jul 2009, 10:30, 4 replies)

Panic at the ATM
For me, banks are like churches – they’re both ominous, all-powerful institutions that want to meddle and piss about with my life, and whenever I go into a church or a bank I’m completley powerless to stop the series of rapid-fire silent machinegun panic farts that shoot out my arse and make it appear like I’ve got a long, swishy, incredibly stinky fart vapor tail.

And its also a really bad idea to go into either of these terrible institutions when you’re absolutely shitfaced.

On a night out in Bolton when I was a student I ran out of funds. We were in the Blue Boar pub, just next to McDonalds, and I spied a bank across the road. The need for beer and salty bar snacks was great, so I wander off without telling anyone to draw out a little more cash (must’ve been student load time; as throughout my student years an ATM was usually just an attractive ornament incorportating a flashing screen, some lovely buttons, and the occasional percussive beep – I could never get any fucking cash out of any of them). I cross the road and realise the ATM’s are inside. Its one of those banks where you have to swipe your card to gain entry to the little room (usually filled with empty McDonalds milkshake cartons, used condoms, syringies stained with blood, and puke by eleven-thirty on a Friday night).

Swaying a bit on account of all the Boddingtons, I swipe my card at the third attempt – some fucker kept making the door dance round in front of me and the ground was a bit wobbly. I went in. Eventually, after a couple of fuck ups, I enter my pin. (I recommend any wouldbe theif to go to Coventry and steal people’s wallets – nine times out of ten the pin number’s gonna be 1987 – the only year the shittest football club in the entrie history of sporting endevour ever actually fluked their way to winning the FA Cup). I take the cash, thank the ATM, and turn to leave.

I approach the door and it doesn’t move. Its locked. Tight. Tighter than a thirteen year old virgin tight. Shit... I try again, only with a little more force. The fucker won’t budge. I look round. Aaaa-haaaa!!! There’s a big green button with Door Release written on it. Casually, chuckling at my own fuck-wittery, I caress the button lovingly, tenderly, like its some great big green alien clit. And then I try the door again.

STILL – FUCKING - LOCKED!!!

I push harder. I put my shoulder in and ram the fucker. Its a big heavy metal door. It won’t budge.

I start to whimper a bit – I’m trapped in a bank! My arse lets out a little series of farty yelps, its like I’ve got a cockerspaniel pup shoved down the back of my kegs. “Muuummm-eeee!” I wail pathetically. But my mum’s not there. My mum can’t help. “Daaaaddd-eeee!” Same outcome.

Then I feel an arm on my shoulder, startled, I turn and see the fitest, sexiest girl in the whole of Bolton dressed in her best going out slutty dress. She’s got a mate with her too, a carbon copy of fitness only with slightly smaller tits. I was so pissed I didn’t even notice them come in and use the ATM next to me. I heard the beeps, but it just didn’t seem to register. I imagined it was R2D2 getting into a bit of a barney with the gold gay one.

The fittest of the fit girls said, very quietly, looking a bit scared: “You need to pull.” And she walked round me, all four-foot nothing and seven stone of her pulled the huge metal door and it opened. And we all walked outside.

Never wanting to miss an opportunity, especially when I had my beer goggles on (for all I know these two girlies could’ve been a couple of trannies going to a special cross-dressing Weightwatchers and bodyhair removal session), I called after them: “Do you fancy going over to the Blue Boar for a drink?”

The other, slightly less fit girl responded without looking back as she and her mate legged it down the street. She said a resounding: “Fuck off!!!”

Well, at least they didn’t ignore me... that would've been rude...
( SpankyHanky, Fri 17 Jul 2009, 10:14, Reply)

When leaving a bank, close all your accounts
For ages I was with the TSB from a spotty kid to a awkward greasy teenager, however after getting cheesed off with their continued imcompetence and the fact that they wouldn't change my local branch from Leicester to Oxford where I'd moved because it might involve them doing some actual work.

Anyways, after dutifuly closing my current account with TSB and opening a new one elsewhere, I was told that all my direct debits etc.. would be moved over. In the process of moving over I'd forgotten that I'd had a crappy savings account still with TSB that I couldn't be bothered to close as it only had 23p in or something.

Cut to 10 months later when I'm suddenly getting snotty letters from TSB saying I'm overdrawn. I'm thinking wtf, I closed my account with them. Turns out there was a direct debit that was missed off, and when my insurance company decided them wanted some cash, charged my defunct TSB account.

Now TSB in their finite wisdom reckoned that since that account was closed, why not charge it to my 23p savings account instead, it's all the same to them.

So after having to pay the money back into my TSB savings account plus the charges, I wrote them a shitty letter asking them wtf they were thinking and to close that account as well.

Never got a response, the shower of cunts.

Morale of the story, if you're going off in a strop, make sure you close all and any accounts with the bank you're leaving.
( flapmeister knows where your mum lives, Fri 17 Jul 2009, 10:10, 2 replies)

Farclays
So I'm a student. I'm going for a lovely day out to Ilkley Moore with the g/f. I've just enough wonga to get the scenic route train from Bradford, and when I get there I can't be bothered walking all the way down the road to my bank to get some cash out, so I stick my card in the first machine I come to, which is a Farclay's.

Card goes in. Nothing appears on the screen. There's a pause. I press cancel. Card comes out - 1mm of it. It sits there for a moment, tantalisingly, then it goes back in, and the screen goes back to it's usual "Hello, how can I help you, unsuspecting member of the public?"

A bit confused, I go into the branch and ask for my card back. They tell me I can't have it. I jump up and down a bit when they tell me I must have typed my PIN in wrong, because I never got the chance to even try that. I further note that I am now 20 miles from home with no money, and they have my only means of paying for anything. Ten minutes of shouting gets me nowhere.

I go down the street to my branch of LLLllllloyds, tell the tale, and the chick behind the counter sympathises, and asks me to sign a scrap of paper. I do so, wondering what she's up to. Two minutes later she comes back and says "How much do you want?". Amazingly, she has, without asking, faxed my signature to my home branch, where they've confirmed it's OK, and authorised her to pay me as much as I need. She's further gone into Barclay's system and confirmed that they have my card because their machine is BROKEN. I am well pleased.

I go back to Farclays and tell them their machine is broken and ask for my card back again. They STILL won't give it to me, fuckers. They promise to mail it to me.

Days later, no card. I ring, and they promise scout's honour they'll post it. Days later, no card. I ring again. "We will post it, honest." Days later, no card. I ring AGAIN. "We've posted it." Days later, no card. I ring AGAIN.

At this point it's hard to convey how angry I got... when the person on the end of the phone said "We destroyed your card on the day it was put in the machine. You need to ask your bank for another."

BASTARDS! As a student, the cash card was a daily lifeline, and I'd been without it for weeks because these CNUTS had barefaced LIED to me about what they were doing, not just once but over and over again.

I told my own bank what they'd done, and I had a new card LATER THE SAME DAY. Small wonder I'm still with that bank 20 years later, and Barclays for some reason kept finding superglue in the slots of their cash machines.
(SonofRojBlake, Fri 17 Jul 2009, 10:07, Reply)

Boo Ya, a paper thin reason for me to tell a story of my old life in LA!
Once upon a time (not too long ago actually) I was under the deluded idea that I may be able to make it in the film industry as a writer/director. I realised that the best thing to do would be to take a number of low paid jobs in a film studio (Called Intermedia- if you are bothered) and would hopefully somehow gain some inside contacts within the industry etc etc (Lame I know but it I had already done the whole send a few scripts to companies route and wanted to get in where I could).

Anywhoo the jobs I had were degrading, I was finally promoted to the job of “on-set dogsbody” and would be sent to do errands for the more famous actors as were a number of other likeminded souls who had moved to LA to improve their chances of stardom. During certain times me and my mates were not really needed (Mostly during studio shooting- most dogsbodies like myself were banned from anywhere near camera), we would spend that time arsing around or doing a number of other office related errands for the company. As I was the more trusted of the bunch I was sometimes tasked with the bank run and would nip to the local bank if needed.

During one of our little parts of free time during the filming of the third Terminator film (Which was an experience in itself that will reappear in a number of later QOTW replies) one of the lads had brought something in to entertain us during the closed set parts, a magnetic game of travel Monopoly. The entire game was compact and when we had to go do our job we could easily fold the thing up, keep what money we had made (including properties) and start up straight away when we all next got together.

We loved the game and spent the next few days trying to cram every free period into the sodding thing. It nearly cost me my job too.
It was a Friday and the office had called me to do the usual cash run for them at 2, at 1:30 I was hunched over a mini monopoly board hoping to get past the more expensive areas owned by my mates and onto my own stretch of hotel covered board. I threw a stupid number and was forced to pay my mate Clive. I swore very loudly which caught the attention of a nearby group. One of the group came over but I was too focused to see who it was.

“What are you doing?” came a familiar European drawl. I turned round and shat myself. There was Arnold Schwarzenegger leaning over our game of Monopoly. When I explained he seemed interested. “Can I play then?” asked the governator hopefully.

What the hell should I do. This bloke is the highest paid bloke on set but our game has been going on for a few days. Then I remembered the office errand I was supposed to do “Sorry mate we are just finishing up because I have to go do the cash run for the office”

“I will wait till you get back then, it looks like fun” replied Arnie.

Gah, take the hint and go play with some weights or something I thought, but thankfully Clive plucked up the courage to speak “Actually we can’t Mr Schwarzenegger” he stammered “all the player pieces have been used, we have nothing left.”

Upon hearing this Arnie grabbed Clive, pulled him off of his feet so they were both at the same eye level and said “I’ll be bank”

(I am so, so sorry)
(mon bison powered by magnets, Fri 17 Jul 2009, 10:06, 1 reply)

Bank charges can be fair.
Checking through my credit card statement, I saw that Lloyds had managed to cock up. Obviously, I was shocked that such a large financial institution could manage to fuck up and I immediately sat in a phone queue for half an hour to talk to someone in Mumbai.

I pointed out that if you pay a credit card bill the money usually only goes out of the account once and although I appreciated that they had put the money back, in the meantime, I'd gone overdrawn and I didn't appreciate the £25 that they had charged me to ensure that I didn't let them cock up again. The charming young lady apologised in the sincere way that only several hours in a call centre several thousand miles away can teach you and said she would cancel the charge.

"Is there anything else I can help you with today?"
"Yes. You charged me £25 for a mistake. I'm charging you. £25 is fair, don't you think?"
"I'll talk to my supervisor..."

After a bit of attempted haggling, I got the £25 added to my account which rapidly turned into a takeaway and beer. Crispy chilli beef never tasted so good.

Length? About an hour on the phone.
(Jimmy-Choo, Fri 17 Jul 2009, 9:49, 1 reply)

Not as bad as others but ff sake!
Brief background...bought a house in Canada and had various accounts to deal with money going back and forth. About a year after last using a dollar account held in London get statements telling me that banks charges of C$30 have been made against it despite it being empty (so on top of everything else I now have an overdraft charge due as well)! Why was the original charge taken....wait for it..."insufficient funds in the account". So I am being charged for not using an empty account. Suddenly I am C$60 in debt for doing nothing with nothing. My local branch (bend over backwards helpful) manage to sort it out with London and get funds refunded. 3 months later guess what, C$60 gone again for "insufficient funds etc. + unauthorised overdraft charge" Cancelled again and now have had to close the empty account which is a real pain but where is the logic???

It's not a lot of money compared to the other posts but is so irritating it makes you want to scream and makes you feel for people trying to deal with this level of stupidity when they have hugely more important things depending on it.

Lord help us all (except for the bankers).
( number5 has been fighting tramps and losing., Fri 17 Jul 2009, 9:37, Reply)

Short and sweet
Wanted to change my bog-standard, cashcard only account from a certain royal bank based in Scotland to a current account with Sparclays. Walked in on my day off, spoke to the 'personal advisor', all set, no problems.
2 weeks later, no cards. I phone up to enquire and they look into it.
I then get a letter in the post to tell me that they don't know my address and can I call in to my 'personal advisor' again with ID and proof of address (which he already had).
"So if you don't know my address" I politely enquire of the unlucky phone-monkey who answered my call, "How did you know where to send the letter?"
"Oh that's on a different system." he tells me.
"I'd like to cancel my account please.."
"May I ask why sir?"
"Because you are a bunch of incompetent fuckwits, and if you can't get something that simple right, why the fuck should I trust you with my finances?!"
(click)
Lucky escape there I think.
( Sunburn Go on.... It's character building!, Fri 17 Jul 2009, 9:29, Reply)