I admit it. I’m a screwup.
At least that’s what my close, personal friends at Washington Mutual bank were quick to tell me every time I made a mistake with my WaMu checking account.
Yeah, a pair of times I didn’t transfer money into that account quickly enough, or – heaven forgive me – there was that time I transferred money out instead of in (yes, I did that).
When I did those things, I’d get a note. It didn’t say “You screwed up, you brainless squid, and we’re charging you $75 for the privilege.”
But it might as well have. And the fees charged were certainly real.
One morning not so long ago, I woke up to learn Washington Mutual had been seized by the Federal Government, then sold to JPMorgan Chase, WaMu rendered insolvent by a series of really, really bad decisions.
The sort of decisions, frankly, you’d make if you were a brainless squid.
The default didn’t affect me all that much, and I rarely keep much money in that account, but then, how much did it really affect WaMu when I overdrew that checking account by $1.18 (yes)?
Still, in keeping with the spirit of the relationship established early on by my friends at WaMu, I’m mailing you a letter outlining the harm suffered the morning I discovered you’d screwed up.
It also explains the $75 “Insolvency Fee” I’m charging you (just deposit it directly into my account, thank you).
I’m sorry it had to come this (and naturally, don’t expect a “thank you” after the deposit’s been made), but this is apparently the kind of thing that happens when you make brainless-squid-level decisions.
At least that’s been my experience.
I do hope that after I’ve charged you an outlandish and arbitrary fee that we can still be friends.
Sincerely,
Tom Chandler
“Dear Mr. Chandler, We are pleased to announce that you have been WaMu’ed. Please find enclosed a receipt for $75 that you so kindly give us…”
Wow, you got a letter…? That’s customer service for you!
All I got was an NSF ding from the bank when they tried to take the mortgage payment. Similar story to yours, actually. I transferred in enough money to cover the month’s bills. Of course I didn’t realize that my wife had written a cheque for $40-odd dollars, putting us in the red…
After a few minutes of embarrassment, anger, and tossed bills in the air (at the bank, not my wife…!), I (relatively) calmly called up the bank and asked why they wouldn’t call me to warn me I had insufficient funds. After 20 years of being a model customer, why was I all of a sudden being treated like a criminal?
The guy was nice actually, and told me they have thousands of these things happen every day. They can’t track all of them I suppose, which made sense — it’s all automated. So I told him, okay, we’re talking here and not automated, so what can you do for a customer that has two mortgages with you, a car loan, RSPs, RESPs, a web broker account, a line of credit, and all my savings with you?
He told me he could reverse the charge.
So now we’re both happy I suppose. And I’ve learned to keep a little bit of back-up money in the account!
Upshot — give them a call. They might see their way to do the same for you…
~Graham
Yes. Yes! This is excellent! No need to pay an attorney to file a class action, just take your client list and start paying those insolvency fees.
Rick.
Banks aren’t the only ones who have a policy of, “We get to screw up but you don’t.” I just wrote a 2-page letter to an eye doctor whose office staff (a) told me the charge would be one amount and sent me a bill for $10 more; (b) told me waiting is normal and “I’ve waited 4 hours to see a doctor -what’s your problem?” and (c) insisted on calling me Mrs. Goodwin when I’m not married.
I am tempted to say, “If you can’t get organized to provide decent customer service, I can’t get organized to pay your bill on time.” Instead, I’ll be looking for a new eye doctor (unless I get a good response to my 2-page letter).
Graham: The fees charged were some time ago. I simply wanted to point out the lopsided nature of the covenant with banks.
Rick: Thanks.
Cathy: Let us know how that one goes, though I wouldn’t necessarily hold my breath.