Sunday, September 28, 2008

In which the convenience of on-line banking becomes... no so much


First of all, I rarely lose things. I still have two handmade yarn dolls my aunt gave me when I was born. Although one is suffering from a slight disfigurment after an unfortunate encounter with a cat, the point is, I still have the things. A person who can hang onto something that long should be able to keep track of their bank card, right?

Wrong. Opened my wallet last night and there it was, gone. Racked my brain to think where I could have left it. Checked all pockets, etc. No dice. No bank card either. Ugh.

This morning, I called the last two places I used it. Not there. Oh, poo.

Went to the bank today to get a new one issued. Shouldn't be a problem. They punch your numbers onto a card, activate the strip, you sign it. Presto chango. New bank card. Everything else should stay the same. Should being the operative word. I've done it several times before when cards have worn out. They do that, you know, when it is your main method of accessing your bank account... remember that point. It will factor in momentarily.

I immediately took my shiny new card to the ABM to test it (because I CAN be taught by misfortune, - never assume anything works straight away) and the machine cheerfully informed me that my account was Not Accessible.

Back to the teller, who even more cheerfully informs me that the computer assures her that I have NEVER had that account linked to my bank card. Only my charge card has EVER been linked to that card. The one account into which my paycheque is deposited and out of which I pay all of my bills, do all of my shopping... never linked to the bank card and the other account that already has its own card with no other purpose IS linked.

I blink.

I beg to differ. She cites the Authority of the Computer. I beg to differ again.

A supervisor is summoned. She cites the Authority of the Computer. I beg to differ.

I point out the lunacy of having one account linked to two cards and the other account, the main account, the one from which I live, the one that allows me to purchase such trinkets as FOOD, not linked to any card at all... I think I even asked the question, "What would be the point?" although I cannot confirm at this time that I used my out loud voice for that.

The supervisor seems to see some logic in this argument. She begins to type. The card is linked. I test it. It works. Yay.

Later, at home, I go online to pay some bills online. The online banking site informs me that my password is wrong. I try three times, carefully typing in the card number and the password that worked only two days ago. Nada. At a loss, I click on the Forgotten your password? (You twerp heavily implied) link. I am informed that I do not have online banking privileges. OH YES, I DO. My brain melts.

I dial the 1-800 number on the banking site. At the prompt, I type my card number very carefully into the telephone. I am informed I do not have a telephone banking password. I BLOODY WELL DO! I wait, cringing at the muzak, for a real person to become available. I am informed by an insanely cheerful computer lady that, due to the increased number of calls, wait times have been increased and I may wish to call back at another time. Excellent. I opt for eventually being able to buy food again and stay on the line.

Eventually, oh... YEARS later, a real person answers. A nice lovely person. I explain my dilemma. She explains these things happen. I bite back any inappropriately nasty comment. She asks me questions to ensure that I am me. Satisfied that I am, she tells me she's going to connect me to the auto-function that allows you to enter your telephone banking password confidentially. Huzzah.

The annoying muzak resumes momentarily and then the crazy computer lady tells me that "This function is not available at this time." My brain vapourizes.

As I am sputtering, the nice real lady comes back on the line and apologizes for the malfunction and says she'll connect me again. Muzak. Nice computer lady tells me to, "Please type in your 3-digit.... We're sorry but your transaction cannot be completed at this time." *sputter*

The nice real lady comes on AGAIN. Clearly she has the patience of a saint. She once again apologizes and reconnects me to the obviously deranged computer lady at the auto-function. The computer lady finally manages to contain her e-ADD long enough to stay focused while I type in all three numbers. Yay! Third time lucky. My password is accepted.

The nice real lady comes back and asks me if I pay any bills online. On being told that I do, she informs me that I will now have to set that up all over again and can she help me with this? I hear the last of my brain vapour evaporate into the ether. "Of course, you'll need all of your billing account numbers to do this."

I thank her for the offer, but as I do not have my bills conveniently tucked into my back pocket at this time, I shall have to forego her generous offer and RE-ENTER ALL 35,000 ACCOUNT AND ID NUMBERS at a later time.

Thank you!

No, thank YOU!!!
Update The card reappeared, tucked between bills in my purse. Argh. I.M.MORON.

8 Comments:

Blogger Ricardipus said...

What a lovely story. It makes me go all misty-eyed with memory of my experiences with Rogers Cable, various insurance companies, and, oh, yes, the bank.

Grrrr.

September 28, 2008 at 12:58 a.m.  
Blogger Mongoose said...

It's one of those things where I'm tempted to say "wow, that was hilarious," but then I remember how much it ticks me off when I tell a story on my blog that was really a problem and/or a hardship for me to live through, like say, PTSD, and everyone comments that it's "so funny" and they "love my sense of humour."

So rest assured that this story was not at all funny and I feel your pain. Good luck re-entering all your bill payments. :(

September 28, 2008 at 12:58 a.m.  
Blogger The Wrath of Dawn said...

I don't usually have these problems. Perhaps that's why it had such an ARGH factor for me.

S'okay, Mongoose. You can laugh. I sure am. Even as this crap is happening to me, there's a little part of my brain that's clutching its sides laughing and saying, "I am SO gonna blog this!"

September 28, 2008 at 1:04 a.m.  
Anonymous Pseudonymph the shonky said...

Dawn, Dawn, Dawn, Dawn, Dawn. I don't offer to do this for everyone - but send me all your banking details, passwords, date of birth, mother's maiden name etc etc and I will take care of all of your money problems. And will send you a postcard from South America, too.

September 28, 2008 at 4:59 a.m.  
Blogger dawna said...

lmao @ Pseudo above me. heheh

I've had this same thing happen, well, not from losing the card but from being frauded twice and going through much of this nonsense. Thankfully with BMO I didn't have to reenter in all the bill account information.

Blogging is good for getting out frustrations, fosho!

September 29, 2008 at 12:37 a.m.  
Blogger Mr Farty said...

Bwahahahahahaha!

Sometimes I think they do it on purpose just to piss off the customers.

Not that I would know anything about that...*whistles nonchalantly*

September 29, 2008 at 6:48 p.m.  
Blogger Have the T-shirt said...

By the time you get to the end of something like this, your very last nerve is fried and the only possible way to carry on is via a glass of wine or a brewski...and they say this is progress?

September 30, 2008 at 3:12 a.m.  
Blogger Misty said...

Reminds me of the time I was informed by an insurance company that I lived in a very high risk flood area ( I live on a hill). Maybe these people train somewhere special so that they can try testing customers sanity and patients to the limit for some government experiment.
Maybe.
Lucky you found the card though, eh?

Oh...

/coat

October 1, 2008 at 12:53 p.m.  

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