Letter To The Bank

A 98 year old woman wrote this to her bank. The bank manager thought it amusing enough to have it published in the Times.

Dear Sir,

I am writing to thank you for bouncing my cheque which I endeavoured to pay my plumber last month. By my calculations, 3 ‘ nanoseconds’ must have elapsed between him presenting the cheque and the arrival in my account of the funds needed to honour it. I refer, of course, to the automatic monthly deposit of my Pension, an arrangement which, I admit, has been in place for only eight years. You are commended for seizing that brief window of opportunity, and also for debiting my account £30 by way of penalty for inconvenience caused to your bank.

My thankfulness springs from the manner in which this incident has caused me to rethink my errant financial ways. I notice that whereas I personally attend your telephone calls and letters, when I try to contact you, I am confronted by the impersonal, overcharging, pre- recorded, faceless entity which your bank has become.

From now on , I, like you, choose only to deal with a flesh and blood person. My mortgage and loan payments will therefore and hereafter no longer be automatic, but will arrive at your bank by cheque, addressed personally and confidentially to an employee at your bank whom you must nominate. Be aware that it is an offence under the Personal Act for any other person to open such envelope.

Please find attached an Application Contact Status which I require your chosen employee to complete. I am sorry it runs to eight pages, but in order that I know as much about him or her as your bank knows about me, there is no alternative. Please note that all copies of his or her medical history must be countersigned by a Solicitor and the mandatory details of his / her financial situation ( Income, debts, assets, liabilities) must be accompanied by documented proof.

In due course, I will issue your employee with a PIN number which he/she must quote in dealings with me. I regret it cannot be shorter than 28 digits but again, I have modelled it on the number of button presses required of me to access my account balance on your phone bank service. As they say, imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.

Let me level the playing field even further. When you call me, press the buttons as follows.

1– To make an appointment to see me.

2– To query a payment.

3– To transfer the call to my living room in case I am there.

4– To transfer the call to my bedroom in case I am sleeping.

5– To transfer the call to my toilet in case I am attending to nature.

6– To transfer the call to my mobile phone in case I am not at home.

7– To leave a message on my computer ( a password is required. A password will be communicated to you at a Later date to the Authorised Contact.)

8– To turn the main menu and listen to options 1 through 8.

9– To make a general complaint or inquiry, the contact will then be put on hold, pending the attention of my automated answering service.

While this may, on occasion, involve a lengthy wait, uplifting music will be played for the duration of the call.

Regrettably, but again following your example, I must also levy an establishment fee to cover the setting up of this new arrangement. May I wish you a Happy, if ever so slightly less prosperous, New Year.

Your Humble Client

( Remember: this was written by a 98 year old woman; DOESN’T SHE MAKE YOU PROUD?)