I have a BofA checking account I’ve had since I was like 16. Ironically, the picture on my debit card is still of me when I was 16. That, uh, was a while ago and a few "new" cards ago. Apparently Bank of America doesn’t think that’s a problem.
I suppose I still do look like I did when I was still a bit virginal. Hooray for me, ha ha (although usually people think I’m the older brother, so maybe I really look 40?). But somehow someone got the debit card number and started going to town online with it.
Considering the amount of money they spent on the site "Second Life", I’d say they probably don’t have a first one, unless it consists solely of stealing credit card numbers so they can afford to buy their avatar a date with the busty blonde who is really some fat old dude half-naked in his mom’s basement.
Anyway I got a notice this morning of irregular check-card activity, and called to investigate.
The guy was talking – rather, reading – a mile a minute and I could not get a word in edgewise. I was answering everything from memory rapid fire: my account number, social security, kinkiest fantasy, etc (wait, wait, what? Who was that guy?) and I screwed up one of the numbers and attempted to correct it.
He immediately jumped to the script that says "WRONG! YOU ANSWERED THE QUESTION WRONG! THEREFORE YOU’RE NOT REALLY YOU, SO GO TO HELL! OR TO A BANKING CENTER LOCATION, WHICH MAY BE THE SAME THING BWAHAHAHAHA!"
Ok it wasn’t that bad. But no amount of pleading or cajoling would get
him to take my corrected answer, even though I volunteered it without
his prodding. Logic says that’s probably a decent indicator that I am
who I say I am.
No matter, he said I absolutely positively had to go into a physical
bank. The script was long though and after about 10 times of me
attempting to interrupt him I finally said some very not-nice things
into the phone and hung up.
Here’s where the story gets really fun.
I go into Bank of America, just what I want to do on my Saturday
morning. The girl greets me and says she can help me, apologizes for
the dude on the phone, takes me into an office. So far so good.
Then she dials the fraud number , hands me the phone, and walks out of the office.
I was like, "hey, um wait uh weren’t you…? Sigh."
Seriously. She called back THE SAME DAMN NUMBER I had called from home.
I guess I’m the idiot for not doing that in the first place. But something in that lengthy script alluded to the account being marked because my security answers were wrong, so logic told me calling back would be an exercise in futility.
(Apparently logic had never dealt with Bank of America before.)
Anyway…I got my information correct this time, and after 20 minutes on
the phone, including about a 6 minute hold-time, I managed to get all
the way to an actual fraud person, who informed me she’d closed the
card and that it might take up to 90 days to get all the charges
dropped.
Wonderful.
I walked out of the office and the lobby was full of people, and I made
it a point to talk to miss banker chick (and her manager, who she
pulled aside because she thought he’d have to help me do WHAT THEY DID
ON THE PHONE), and in the most extraverted, loud conversational voice I
could, I asked just what exactly the reason was for me to come all the
way into the bank to get on the phone with the people I had been on the
phone with at home.
Hand-wringing, shrugs, well-uh’s…
I proceeded to tell them, in my best "I’m smiling but it’s because I’m
an ESTP and selling you because really I would just love to kick your ass right now" manner just
how stupid, illogical, and annoying the whole hour-long process was,
and that Bank of America should really look into improving their
customer service.
All they had for me was "I’m sorry. Is there anything else I can help you with?"
Sure, how about a clorox enema? I just wasted an hour of my life so you could REDIAL THE NUMBER TO THE PEOPLE I WAS
JUST TALKING TO, is there anything else you can help me with. Come on.
I think I’m capable of pressing Send>Send all by myself.