January 23, 2007

J.P. Morgan and his lowly gal

My bank and I aren't getting along.

To be fair, Chase bank -- or any bank, for that matter -- is at an immediate disadvantage. I grew up with relatives in banking. When I was a small child, my mom was a teller, at a bank where my grandfather worked for 41 years and retired as president.

From birth onward, tellers and officials at my grandfather's bank knew me by name. They still know me, and sometimes, on visits home, I go to the bank with my mom to say hi -- even though I no longer have accounts there.

That sort of familiarity has created, for me, a high bar for customer service in a financial institution. And in this category, I find Chase lacking.

Chase workers, however, aren't the first to disappoint. In college, I was forced to deal with LaSalle Bank in Chicago, an institution known around campus for its unwarranted charges, faulty (and few and far between) ATMs and general lack of enthusiasm for its student clients.

For a short time after college, I found a solace. When I was just two weeks from being a college and graduate school graduate, I walked myself down to Bank One and opened an account. I'd done my research. I'd talked to friends, looked at the account options online and even mapped out branches near my pending internships.

For months, my banking life was grand. I enjoyed free checking, a great online banking Web site and friendly customer service representatives. When I moved to a new city, the tellers at my new branch smiled and asked where I grew up.

Eventually, however, the merger between Bank One Corp. and JP Morgan Chase and Co. filtered down to we lowly customers. Bank One logos disappeared from branches. The online banking Web site changed its format.

As seems inevitable when big corporations become even bigger, new fees popped up. The next time I moved, I encountered trouble in paradise.

When I went to my new Chase branch, a customer service representative looked down her nose at me. Are these accounts based in Texas? she asked.

I wasn't completely sure what she meant. I opened the accounts in Chicago, but Chase is a national bank.

Well, she huffily informed me, they're based in Chicago. We'll have to move them here. Otherwise, we can't make any changes to the accounts, you know, if anything happens.

(Exactly what did she mean by, "If anything happens?")

I politely declined. I'd moved all over the country and encountered no problems. My Chicago-based accounts, I said, were fine by me.

Boy, was that a mistake.

Three weeks ago, I went to my local branch to close my savings account (since I wasn't meeting Chase's minimum balance, I was getting slammed with fees). This seemed a logical approach: I want to close my savings account. I'll go to my bank.

At first, it seemed I was right. At the bank, I sat with a customer service representative, who, even though my accounts were based in Chicago, filled out paperwork to close the savings account and stop any automatic transfers into it.

Ten days later, I checked my accounts online. My monthly transfer to my savings account, which was supposed to be closed, had occurred as usual.

With a call to my branch -- the same one were I had "closed" my account -- I learned that a customer service rep in Texas can't close a Chicago-based account. I would have to call a telebanking phone number to close the account.

(Exactly when were they planning to tell me this?)

Fine, I thought. Everyone makes mistakes.

Several days later, I went to my branch just after noon on a Saturday. OK, I could have gone earlier. But I didn't, and it's my bank, and they're open 'til 1 p.m. on Saturdays. So I thought I was fine.

Wrong again.

The first teller I saw told me my transaction was going to take a Very Long Time. I stayed quiet. So what? I was thinking. You're my bank.

Then, the teller huffed -- one of those short, exasperated sighs -- and informed me, as I already knew, that the bank was only open until 1 p.m.

I, dumbfounded, still said nothing. What did she want me to say? Gee, you only have an hour, I guess I'll have to come back another day?

Then, she added insult to injury, asking, Do you have an account here?

No, lady! I just thought I'd make your day miserable, just for fun. This week, I picked Chase. Maybe next week, I'll pick Capital One. I mean, seriously -- I had my checkbook and deposit slip on the counter.

Yes, I said. I have an account.

Another huff. She said she'd see if someone else could help.

Teller No. 1 returned with Teller No. 2. And what should Teller No. 2 ask, but, Do you have an account with us?

Now I huffed, at least in my head.

Yes. YES! Yes, I have an account with you. But I'm seriously starting to regret it.

Resigned to the fact that I was a customer, Teller No. 2 took my transaction in hand and went back to her station. Just 35 minutes later -- at 12:50 p.m. -- the Very Long transaction was complete.

OK, deep breaths. I was annoyed, but they executed the transaction. I'd get over it.

Today, however, came Strike Three.

I awoke to an e-mail this morning alerting me that my OverDraft Protection had been activated on my checking account.

That's odd, I thought. I had checked my ATM balance and online balance over the weekend, before spending any money, and I hadn't spent nearly the available balance.

I checked my balance online again. No erroneous charges. Just the few things I'd bought on Saturday. But, sure enough, there was the "ODP" charge.

So onto the phone we went.

The first customer service representative was, essentially, useless. My purchases from the weekend, she said, were greater than the balance shown on my account for Thursday.

That's true. But, I said, I had deposited money on Friday, and my receipt showed an available balance well above Thursday's balance. So did my online account record.

Oh, she said. Did you make the deposit at an ATM machine?

OK, first of all, it's an ATM. Those three letters stand for "Automatic Teller Machine." Saying "ATM machine," then, is equal to saying, "Automatic Teller Machine Machine." It's like chai tea or bento box -- which translate to "tea tea" and "box box."

Second, I could now see where this was headed. "Deposits made at ATMs may not be immediately available ... blah blah blah."

Here's the problem with that: My ATM receipt showed not one but TWO balances: My "present" balance, which included the full amount of my deposit, and my "available" balance, which included only a fraction of the deposit.

Now, I have two academic degrees, but neither of them is in personal finance. To me, that receipt says: "Here are the funds that are available, and here are the ones that aren't."

The customer rep on the phone, however, wasn't interested in this theory. I can't see your ATM receipt, she said.

Do you think I'm making these numbers up? I asked. I'd be happy to fax you a copy.

In the end, she said, she couldn't do anything anyway. She couldn't reverse the charges.

Someone can, I said. She got a supervisor.

The supervisor gave me the "funds not available" line again. That's fine, I said, but a receipt from a Chase bank ATM, as well as my online banking records, also maintained by Chase, had told me otherwise. How could I be faulted for overdrafting my account if machines controlled by Chase had told me I wasn't overdrafting it?

Believe it or not, she started in again on the line. And I started in on my rant, ending with the fact that I couldn't wait to cancel my accounts with Chase.

OK, she said. Have a good day.

And just like that, I found out how deeply my bank cares about my business.

Eventually, the supervisor agreed to reverse the charges. I'm happy to report my $7 has been returned to my account.

Any appreciation for my bank, however, has disappeared.

Sadly, I have little faith that other banks will offer better service. And Chase has a branch less than a mile from my house. For now, though I'd like to cancel, I'm stuck.

1 comment:

  1. Anonymous10:50 PM

    bill morgan married liza
    thinking he could change her ways
    what she did to william,
    i'm most ashamed to say.

    ReplyDelete