A 98 year old woman in the UK 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 with which I endeavoured to pay my plumber last month. By my calculations, three nanoseconds must have elapsed between his 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 thirty eight years.
You are to be commended for seizing that brief window of opportunity, and
also for debiting my account £30 by way of penalty for the 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 noticed that whereas I personally attend to 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 Postal Act for any other person to open such an 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 and liabilities) must be accompanied
by documented proof.
In due course, I will issue your employee with PIN number which he/she must quote in dealings
with me. I regret that 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 buttons as
follows:
1. To make an appointment to see me.
2. To query a missing 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 if I am not at home.
7. To leave a message on my computer (a password to access my
computer is required. A password will be communicated to you at a later
date to the Authorized Contact.)
8. To return to the main menu and to listen to options 1 through to 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 play 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
Today at 3:56 pm by 
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