Bank Case 2: Penniless and pondering

Saturday afternoon, and I’ve been working all day. It was the second day of my new job, and I needed to pay for my film development, get changed and showered, and run back to training for dinner and evening festivities. Being that Wal Mart (the 7th circle of hell) was the closest place I could develop film, I was forced to use their skill-less photo lab technicians to develop my film. After waiting an hour and a half to have my film developed, it was finally ready. I went to pay and found that my debit card was displaying insufficient funds. I found this odd, as the preceding Friday was a pay day. I was sure to have money in my account. I was also sure my card was functional, as I had used it earlier in the morning to pay for the film, currently being developed. I was forced to pay by Credit card.

It was 3:30, and I promptly called the Bank’s 1-800 number. After waiting on hold for 20 minutes, I was forced to hang up, as I had arrived at my destination. I thought it wise to use a land line and save myself some airtime. I re-called the bank, and waited another 20 minutes. I finally heard a voice. As usual, I was asked a series of security questions, used to thwart would be thieves. The CSR informed me that my card had been used at a location, known to compromise debit cards. I thanked her for canceling my card, and informed her that I needed money for the evening. The CSR was unable to help me. Since my card was cancelled by the fraud squad, I would have to get my money directly from a bank. Unfortunately, at 4:20, there are no banks open on Saturday (one of the many gripes I have with banks is their unaccommodating business hours). Essentially, I was stranded. The CSR then told me I could use my VISA to withdraw cash. The VISA withdrawal would have been a good idea had I remembered the pin that was given to me 8 years ago. I told the CSR that I didn’t know my VISA pin and could not withdraw any money. I then asked her if I could transfer my money to my account with an affiliated bank. The CSR informed me that since my card was frozen; all my bank accounts were frozen. I was left without cash. I asked to speak with a supervisor or member of the fraud squad. The CSR then promptly hung up on me. I am sure it was an accident. No… really…. I am. I called back once again, and once again, waited on hold for 20 minutes. Again, I answered my security questions, and spoke with yet another CSR. I explained my story to the CSR and he passed me on to a supervisor. The supervisor echoed her subordinate’s statements verbatim. My accounts were all locked and there’s nothing I can do about it until Monday (I later found out that although my card was frozen, they could have processed a transfer… but that’s a whole other story). I was puzzled. What is the point of the security questions to validate my identity over the phone if they really can’t do anything with my account? The supervisor repeated to me that she could not validate my identity and therefore could not unfreeze my account, or transfer any money for me. I guess this location that compromises debit cards is also housed with special Psychic Cashiers, who can predict my mom’s maiden name, guess my birth city, envision my first kiss and knows the name of my third grade teacher. Note to the readers: Never underestimate the psychic abilities of crooks!

It was now after 6:00. I had been on the phone with the banks for a couple of hours, and am penniless. The Bus is about to leave for our dinner destination, and I don’t have any money to do anything. This really sucks. I explained my situation to my new manager, and he loaned me $60 for the evening. On the bright side, we ended up going to a club in the evening, where the Bartender recognized me from Humber College. She gave me free beers and shots all night long.

Monday rolls around and I meet with my personal banking advisor. I explain the situation and she’s appalled. She tells me that I should have received a call as soon as my card was cancelled and she would call the Head office to investigate further. She gets me a replacement card and destroys the tainted card. She was surprised that it’s Monday and the bank still hasn’t called me to notify me my card was cancelled. Standard protocol is to call within 24 hours of an incident, but usually call immediately after canceling a card to avoid the situation I went though. Later that day a Fraud Squad member called me and notified me that my accounts are in order and no funds were siphoned from my account. He also notified me that even though my card was cancelled, my accounts were still active and should have been able to transfer money to my affiliated bank card. You really have to admire those clueless CSRs.

Friday evening, I’m at home and receive a call on my phone. I am asked a series of skill testing and personal questions. My bank has decided to call me and notify me that my card was compromised last week, and if I have used my card since. I was extremely pissed at this point. It took my bank a week to call me to notify me that my card was compromised?? This poor CSR got the brunt of my anger. I asked her if this was a joke, and if it was normal to call someone a WEEK after their card was cancelled. She told me that her supervisor had asked her to call me. And there it was. It was a pity call. I guess someone got in trouble for not calling me a week ago and tried to make amends by calling me a week later. I don’t hold the CSR here at fault at all. The problem lies with the way banks treat their customers. In the end, I would have been better off keeping my money in a jar beside my bed.


The above was yet another reason why I hate banks

Bank Case 1: Waiting at a bank

I figured I’d start off my case files with the quickest and most recent bank case.

I decided I’d start saving for my future and invest in some RRSPs. I currently invest money for retirement, but was looking for something a bit more stable. I opted for a Bank RRSP. It was 3:00pm on a Thursday (extended hours day) and I was the only customer in the bank. I walked up to the customer service desk and informed the CSR that I’d like to open and RRSP account. I was asked to take a seat. After waiting 15 minutes, the CSR approached me with some news. Unfortunately, all of the personal bankers were occupied and could not assist me. I’d have to come back another day. Now don’t get me wrong, I’m appreciative of this CSR’s advice, however, I would have liked to have known 15 minutes earlier that the bankers were all busy. Isn’t it her job to know how long each banker should take and when a banker should be free? So I left the bank with 15 minutes of my live given to the bank.

I then went to visit the bank on Saturday at 2:45. When I spoke to the CSR at this bank, I was informed that there wasn’t enough time to process my RRSP as the bank was to close at 3:00pm. I then glanced at the hours of operation, and noticed that the bank was open from 9:30 – 3:00. There was nobody in the bank, yet I was once again turned away.
The following Monday, I visited a different bank branch at 3:00 pm, and notified the CSR of my intentions to open an RRSP account. After waiting 25 minutes, the CSR asked me if I wouldn’t mind waiting two more minutes before meeting with a personal banker. Hooray for me!!! I’m going to finally meet the illusive personal banker. I imagine this is how the tin man felt when he finally got to meet the Wizard of Oz. Unfortunately, what the CSR meant to say was “Excuse me sir, would you mind if I let all these people behind you, ahead of you?”. Shortly after asking me to wait a couple more minutes, the CSR proceeded to usher the two clients who followed me into the bank, to their personal bankers. I waited an additional 15 minutes before the CSR asked me if I wouldn’t mind coming back another day as all the personal bankers were now occupied. So, I’ve been sitting in the waiting room for 40 minutes with nothing to do but play gold on my cell phone, and now the CSR has the nerve to ask me if I could come back another day. In total, this bank branch, which I shall remain nameless, has robbed me of over an hour of my time (I’m including drive and park time). I politely told the CSR that after waiting 40 minutes at her location, I wasn’t leaving the bank without setting up my RRSP. I waited an additional 10 minutes and met with my personal banker. He didn’t look anything like the Great Wizard of Oz. He was bumbling and tried to sell me a third RRSP solution.

All in all, this was a horrible experience, and hope that I’ll never have to deal with this bank until my 65th birthday. They’ll take my money, invest it without my intervention.

Please stop being so hard on Banks! – A real inconvenient truth

I am a true friend of the bank. I get upset when people slag banks for being inconvenient, costly, inattentive, and self serving.

Why should banks be open before you leave for work, or after you finish work? I think we’re being a bit selfish in thinking that banks should offer hours of operation longer than 6.5 hours a day. Listen up bank customers, bank employees have families too. I’m sure they’d like to maximize the time they spend at home as much as you. Don’t you think it would be indecent to ask them to spend an entire 9 hour shift at work, simply to accommodate the customers? It’s true that banks close for every holiday, celebratory day and soon enough, mothers/Father’s Day; but let the employees have their days off! Really, these holidays aren’t coming as a surprise to us customers. They fall on the same days every year. Who cares if Veterans Day falls on a pay day? You’ll have to visit a money mart to get your cash pensioners! You should make it a priority to visit a bank on your lunch hour, the one day a week the bank is opened late, or on a Saturday. Brave those 30 minute line ups and understand that the banks really are here to serve you.

The banks have made numerous attempts to accommodate us customers. The banks have listened to our requests for later service hours, and have appeased us by introducing ABM machines and Online Banking. Where would I be without those 24 hour ABM machines? These two marvels of modern technology are godsends, albeit convenience does come with a price. Every ABM and internet transaction carries a minimum $1.25 per transaction price. I trust that my $1.25 transaction fee feeds the needed research used to prevent internet banking fraud, and ABM card scams. Just 5 months ago, my bank card was defrauded, duplicated and used. I am confident that without each of my accumulated $1.25 bank fees, they wouldn’t have had the manpower to cancel my card, and then notify me about it a week later. That one week notification could have easily been two months or longer. It’s this personal attention I don’t mind paying for.

When requesting personal branch banking, I don’t mind waiting 30 minutes for service, before being asked to go home as the bankers are all busy. Really, how could they know that the customer who preceded me would take over an hour to finalize a mortgage and house signing papers? I know that my time and patience is valued; it was written on a placard, hung on the wall.

I really do live banks and the services they offer. I leave these thoughts with you: Why do banks need to operate under business hours, and work unofficial holidays that accommodate the customer? What’s the big deal about them collecting a measly $1.25 each transaction they process for us? Doesn’t the service they provide reflect the cost of business? Aren’t banks always looking out for our best interests, and not only interested in milking us of every penny we own?


If you’d like to learn more about my experiences with banks, please read come of the Case files I will pos shortly.

The Bermuda love triangle

Since my life is somewhat of a bore recently, my friends took it upon themselves to thrust me into their relationship woes. One of suck incidents is the story of Bryan and Martina. The names have been changed to protect the innocent. Actually, I changed the names because it makes it feel a lot more covert this way.

Saturday morning, I was up at 8:00 am, working hard at rebuilding my home PC, when all of a sudden I receive a group MSN message from one of my best friends. The message reads something like this “From: I AM A BIG CHEATER, I DON’T DESERVE MARTINA BECAUSE I’M A LIAR AND NEED THERAPY: Message: I’M A LYING CHEATER WHO HAD SEX WITH A 19 YEAR OLD AND PRETEND I’M 23. I NEED SERIOUS THERAPY”

Knowing my friend would never send out a message like this, I called him to make sure everything was on the up and up. He knew right away that his ex had logged into his account, changed his name and send a mass MSN message to everyone on his contact list. I was asked to run some damage control. As a good friend, I logged into his account, changed the password and sent out a message noting that it wasn’t he who sent the message. Everything fixed! I’m such a good friend; I deserve a pat on the back, or a Porsche. Before I could log off, one of his female coworkers sent a suspicious message to his account. Knowing who she was, I identified myself as Steve, and assured her that Bryan did not send out any messages. The coworker response was again suspicious.

My friend came over to my house and brought me up to speed on his situation.

He and his girlfriend broke up. They decided to try and work though their issues, but the relationship was far from stable. Friday night, his girlfriend paid him a visit at work, and was treated to a brood of female coworkers, each with an axe to grind about Bryan. They regaled her with tales of his possible infidelity, womanizing and general attitude toward his female coworkers. All of the tales unsubstantiated, but were enough to cause the troubled couple to break up once again. Martina slapped Bryan in front of his coworkers as she stormed out. I’m sure the coworkers felt a sense of accomplishment and justice as their meddling had caused grief for their nemesis.

So, here we are back to Saturday afternoon, where Bryan is in need of some cheering up and direction. As most guys deal with grief, I offered him beer, chips and porno. He accepted the porno. As Bryan left, I received a message form Martina. She wanted to express her sympathy for dragging me into the situation. Instead of me accepting the apology and letting her go on her way, I defended my friend and questioned the motives of the coworker informants. This led to a lengthy MSN discussion that took over most of the day. In the end, it turns out the coworkers really weren’t as honest as one would think. They definitely had an agenda and malicious intentions. To my knowledge, Martina and Bryan still aren’t together or on speaking terms. I am no longer a part of this situation, and nor do I want to be.

My gripe with this situation would have to be the coworkers. This incestuous group of schemers must have been looking to cleanse their souls in some way. I don’t know how to describe this group of people. They live like gypsies, with no common bonds, or order, just the law of the land and look out for themselves before others. If you haven’t already guessed, they’re servers at a chain restaurant. Unable to see further than their next paycheque or screw, and consumed by the server lifestyle, they have nothing better to do than to spread rumours and lies about a guy trying to better himself and build his life. Please don’t get me wrong. Not all servers act this way, but this particular store seems to find the lowest of the low.

I had to get this off my chest as this entire incident managed to rob me of a weekend fo relaxation and computer rebuilding.

Baby Lassie scarred me for life.

As some of you may have already seen, I have a tiny scar that runs from the base of my nostril to my upper lip. If you attended Vista Heights public school, you may know it as the Bugger Chunnel.

You may wonder how I got such a scar. Well, wonder no more as the mystery of the Chunnel is about to be told. Please feel free to pause from reading, grab some pop corn and a frosted beverage. I’ll wait.

Picture a 3 year old toddler, vacationing in Malta. This 3 year old is happy and active yet bored out of his mind. He stayed with his family at his grandparents’ house. Unfortunately, for a 3 year old, Disneyland and time at spending quality time with the family are polar opposites. What’s an active 3 year old to do? One brilliant idea is to chase a miniature collie around the house. Similar to a midget crocodile hunter, he stalked his prey and chased it from room to room until the dog settled under a bed. Seeing as how the dog had nowhere else to go, the toddler crept under the bed, and grabbed the dog. Victory! This miniature collie will go well in his imaginary trophy case. Much to the toddler’s surprise, the collie didn’t want to go without a fight and swiped at the toddlers face, tearing the skin and leaving behind a sizeable gash.

If you haven’t already figures out, the toddler was me. I think I mentioned earlier in the blog how this was my story. Please keep up.

Well, my parents carted me away to the clinic where the doctor applied a butterfly stitch to my lip and instructed my parents to keep an eye on me. The trouble with a facial wound is that if the butterfly stitch were to come prematurely undone, it could result in a permanent facial scar, and in turn an unbalanced moustache. No sooner does the doctor instruct my parents to keep an eye on my lip as I tear off the Band-Aid and start picking at the scar. My parents knew at that point that re-applying the butterfly stitch would result in futility.

So, here I am today, with a scar on my upper lip and a story to share with the world. I’ve attached a photo of my big sis, my dad and myself, all sporting matching Band-Aid moustaches. I think it makes me look like a menacing Tattoo from Fantasy Island.

Enjoy the pics.

Oh, and if you were wondering, the collie’s name was Snoopy.

Giving up the Booze

Here it is, the announcement of the hour: I have given up booze for two months. Now, to those of you who are non-drinkers, or don’t consume booze while attending social gatherings, this may seem like a small feat. I assure you that it is not. I have been drinking some form of alcohol at least once a week for close to 10 years.

Although drinking socially for 10 years, with the occasional bouts of serious drunkenness, and projective vomiting wouldn’t sound like alcohol abuse, by pure definition, it is. I don’t consider myself an alcoholic, and don’t use alcohol to medicate. I enjoy sipping wine with meals, drinking beer with spicy foods, and having pints with friends.

So, why would I want to give up booze for two months? Well, for three reasons.

1) I want to save money (booze aint cheap unless you make it in your bathtub, or drink fermented pickle juice)

2) I am trying to cut out some calories. I’m not as active over the winter as I am over the summer, so I’d like to cut calories where I can. I’d like to have a six pack this summer and not the kind I carry around in a cooler.

3) I want to cleanse my body of toxins. I’ll just replace the booze with copious amounts of water

So, there it is. I’m giving it up. I have been abstaining from alcohol since Monday Jan 15. I have allotted myself 3 drink days. I plan on not using them, but you never know.

Hooray Accident season is here!

The first big snowfall in Southern Ontario brings a smile t the faces of plow operators, tow truck drivers, and amnesia specialists. Unbeknownst to some, every year, between the months of November and March, Southern Ontario is hit with Chances of snow, icy roads a freezing rain. Although this is an annual occurrence, many of us forget how to operate our vehicles in this challenging weather. If you are reading my blog, and have found this SURPRISE winter snowfall has caught you off guard, please read on for some helpful advice.

Please do not panic. Remain calm, and try to remember how you managed to drive in this weather last year. I know how easy it may be to forget a skill you use only one third of the year, but please try for me. Try to remember how sudden acceleration results in minimal progress. Keep in mind that not only is sudden braking impossible on ice and snow, but can result in a complete loss of control of your vehicle. Forget not to make lane changes well in advance, and be sure to use the signal.

No matter how late you get to work, you’ll be even later if your car is wrapped around a pole, so please drive safe.

I hope that I helped at least one person with my blog. Especially the bad lady driver with the green Toyota minivan (you know who you are).

PS> Remember 4 wheel drive really helps in acceleration & driving control, but will do crap all when you’re trying to stop a skid.

Vanity Mirrors – Your Driving Companion

I would like to remind all my female readers that the automobile vanity mirrors are to be used while the automobile is not in motion, and that rear view mirrors are not for checking your make-up. For 15 consecutive work days, I have found 14 women and 1 man preening in the vanity and rear view mirrors while driving an automobile. The man was a special treat as he was attempting the ever tricky “Moving while nose hair trimming” trick. I believe this trick was attempted by Harry Houdini himself, and caused the great one enough stress to almost quit the magic business.

In any case, I’m amazed at how many people choose to sleep in the extra 10 minutes, rather than take the time at home to put on make-up, shave, pluck, brush, and style themselves. The above duties should not be performed in a moving vehicle.

I would really like to see the statistics of accidents involving beauty care products. Anytime there’s an accident and a bottle of booze is found in the wreckage, it’s assumed the driver was drinking or had open alcohol in the vehicle. I’d like to see the stats where beauty products were present, or found in the wreckage. I can almost guarantee you that it would outnumber alcohol related accidents 3 to 1.

A place of Sanctity

So, imagine, you’re in the can, trying to herd a turd and your blackberry goes off. You A) read the message and make a note to get to it later, B) Ignore it, but finish up so you can get out and return the message or C) Pinch and reply?

If you chose C, you’re probably like many people these days. Last night, I visited the mall, and had to visit the urinal, when I heard quick and precise tapping beside me. I heard the distinctive button tapping of a Blackberry keyboard. I polled some of my blackberry using friends and found that most of them will receive and reply to messages while in the can. Maybe it’s just me, but I think it’s completely wrong. It’s right up there with bringing the cordless phone into the lou.

Using a public toilet is bad enough. In the rare emergency situations where I need to use a public toilet, I assure you it’s a quick in and out operation with little time to sit and read email messages let alone reply to them.

Is technology so invasive that the toilet of solitude has now been infested with Blackberries, TXT messages and phone calls?

If ever I see someone with a Laptop in the john, I’ll be sure to take note and ridicule them appropriately. What ever happened to the rolled up newspaper, or the skin rag?

Sayonara UFO Canopy Monstrosity

Yes folks, as many of you don’t know. I have the pleasure of working in a Herman Miller cubicle. What? You don’t know who Herman Miller is? Well, he’s the Andy Warhol of office furniture. I could describe my desk as something in-between a helicopter and a wad of phlegm. It has been nicknamed the UFO, the Lily pad, the chicken wing and my favorite, the in flight beetle. I’ve included a photo. Unfortunately, this isn’t the photo of my desk. My desk is an off white and cream coloured mixture with a tan canopy. It’s accented by the red marble, yellow & grey walls in the office.

So, it’s not so much that I don’t like the desk or its situation. In fact my cubicle mate is super cool and with the mesh walls, it’s easy to carry conversations with her throughout the day. My problem is with the lack of privacy and lack of storage. The swing out drawer is large enough to hold a few CDs and a pack of Tic Tacs.

This week, I’ll be moving to a new desk, with storage, 3” thick grey fabric walls and privacy. Currently, my desk faces the VPs office. Everything I write, view, brows, research, or work on is on display like the woolly mammoth at the Royal Ontario Museum. I frequently get asked about my computer backgrounds, or what programs I’m using.

I will soon be a free man.