Letter to a Bank Manager

A 98-year-old woman wrote this to her bank, and the bank manager
thought it amusing enough to have it published in the New York
Times.

Dear Sir:

I am writing to thank you for bouncing my check with which I
endeavored to pay my plumber last month.

By my calculations, three "nanoseconds" must have elapsed between his
presenting the check and the arrival in my account of the funds needed
to honor it. I refer, of course, to the automatic monthly deposit of
my entire salary, an arrangement which, I admit, has been in place for
only 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 check, addressed
personally and confidentially to an employee at your bank whom you
must nominate.

Be aware that it is an offense 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 Notary Public, 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 a 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 modeled 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 7.

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

(Remember: This was written by a 98-year-old woman.)